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CAMBRIDGE
ANCIENT HISTORY

VII PART 2
THE RISE
OF ROME

ROY 274 UM be

THE CAMBRIDGE
ANCIENT HISTORY

SECOND EDITION

VOLUME VII
PART 2

The Rise of Rome to 220 B.C.

Edited by
F.W. WALBANK F.s.a.

Emeritus Professor, formerly Professor of Ancient
History and Classical Archaeology, University of Liverpool

A.E. ASTIN

Formerly Professor of Ancient History
The Queen’s University, Belfast

M.W. FREDERIKSEN
R.M. OGILVIE

Assistant Editor
A. DRUMMOND

Lecturer in Classics,
University of Nottingham

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PUBLISHED BY THE PRESS SYNDICATE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
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CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
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© Cambridge University Press 1989

This book is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception
and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements,
no reproduction of any part may take place without
the written permission of Cambridge University Press.

First published 1989
Fifth printing 2006

Printed in the United Kingdom at the University Press, Cambridge
British Library Cataloguing in Publication data
The Cambridge Ancient History. - 2nd ed. Vol. 7
Pt. 2: The Rise of Rome to 220 B.c.

1. Ancient world
I. Walbank, F. W. (Frank William) 930

Library of Congress Card no. 75-85719

ISBN © §21 23446 8

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CONTENTS

List of Tables page xi
List of Maps xii
List of Text-Figures xiii
Preface xv
The sources for early Roman history I

by the late R.M. Ogilvie, formerly Professor of Humanity, University of
St. Andrews
and A. Drummond, Lecturer in Classics, University of Nottingham

1 The surviving evidence:

(a) Literary sources I
(b) Antiquarian writers 9
(c) Inscriptions 1I
(d) Archaeological and other evidence 15
11 The creation of early Roman history:
(a) The available data 16
(b) Techniques of reconstruction 24
(c) Conclusion 28
Archaic Rome between Latium and Etruria 30

by M. Torelli, Professor of Archaeology and the History of Greek and
Roman Art, Faculty of Letters, University of Perugia

1 Introduction 30

11 Archaeology, urban development and social history 31
i Sanctuaries and palaces 39
1v Emporia and shrines at emporia 48
v Conclusion 51
The origins of Rome 52

by the late A. Momigliano, formerly Professor of Ancient History,
University College London

1 The problems of context 52

u The myths of foundation 56

ut Settlement, society and culture in Latium and at Rome 63
v

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vi CONTENTS

1v The development and growth of Rome

v The Roman kings

v1 The social, political and religious structures of the regal
period

4 Rome in the fifth century I: the social and economic
framework
by A. Drummond

1 The Twelve Tables
11 Economy:
(a) Agriculture
(b) Market development and trade
(c) Economic changes in the fifth century
11 Social structures:
(a) Introduction
(b) Family, agnates and clan
(c) Kinsmen, friends and neighbours
(d) Comrades and dependants
(e) Social stratification

5 Rome in the fifth century II: the citizen community
by A. Drummond

1 Political and constitutional developments:
(a) The ancient account
(b) The consular fasti and the date of the Republic
(c) The patriciate and the senate
(d) The consulship
(e) The dictatorship
(f) The consular tribunate
(g) The quaestors, guaestores parricidit and duoviri
(perduellionis)
(h) The censorship
(i) The assemblies
(j) Conclusion
1 The plebeian movement:
(a) Introduction
(b) The First Secession and the plebeian officers
(c) The Decemvirate, Second Secession and Twelve
Tables
(d) The character and objectives of the plebeian
movement

6 Rome and Latium to 390 B.c.

by T.J. Cornell, Senior Lecturer in History, University College London

1 The growth of Roman power under the kings
11 The fall of the monarchy and its consequences
11 The Latin League

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87

113
113

118
124
130

143
146
154
157
163

172

172
173
178
186
190
192

195
197
198
204

212
212

227
235

243

243
257
264

CONTENTS Vil

tv Rome and her allies in the fifth century 274
v The incursions of the Sabines, Aequi and Volsci 281
v1 Veii and Rome’s offensive 294
vil The Gallic disaster 302
7 The recovery of Rome 309
by T. J. Cornell
1 Rome’s widening horizons 309
11 Economic and social problems in the fourth century:
poverty, land hunger and debt 323
111 Constitutional reforms and the rise of the nobility 334
Appendix. The chronology of the fourth century B.c. 347
8 The conquest of Italy 351

by T. J. Cornell
1 Rome’s first struggle with the Samnites, the defeat of the

Latins and the formation of the Roman commonwealth 351
11 The Second Samnite War 368
m1 The Roman conquest of Central Italy 372

Iv The Third Samnite War and the completion of the conquest
of peninsular Italy 377

v Rome in the age of the Italian wars:

(a) Politics and government 391
(b) Economic and cultural developments 403
9 Rome and Italy in the early third century 420

by E.S. Staveley, formerly Reader in Ancient History, Bedford College,
University of London

1 The Roman commonwealth 420
11 The northern frontier: Rome and the Gauls 431
ut The constitution: magistracy and assemblies 436
1v Nobilitas and senate 443
v Policies and personalities 447
to Pyrrhus 456
by P.R. Franke, Professor of Ancient History, University of the
Saarland
1 The conflict between Rome and Tarentum 456
11 Pyrrhus as king of the Molossians. His policy in Greece to
281 B.C. 458
11 Pyrrhus in Tarentum. The battle of Heraclea 280 B.c. 462
tv New negotiations with Rome. The battle at Ausculum
279 B.C. 469
v Syracuse calls for help. The Romano-Punic treaty against
Pyrrhus 279/8 B.c. 473
vi Pyrrhus in Sicily 477

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viii

CONTENTS

vir Pyrrhus returns to Italy. The battle of Beneventum
275 B.C.
vu Return to Epirus. The death of Pyrrhus 272 B.c.
1x Epilogue

Carthage and Rome

by the late H.H. Scullard, formerly Professor Emeritus of Ancient
History, University of London

1 Carthaginian public and private life:

(a) The Carthaginian state
(b) City and empire
(c) Economic and social life

11 The Romano-Carthaginian treaties:
(a) The early treaties
(b) The first treaty
(c) The second treaty:
(d) Later treaties

wi The First Punic War:
(a) The Mamertines and war
(b) War by land and sea
(c) The invasion of Africa
(d) Stalemate and checkmate
(e) Revolt in Africa and Sardinia

Postscript. The emergence of the provincial system

by A.E. Astin, Professor of Ancient History, The Queen’s University,
Belfast

Religion in republican Rome
by J.A. North, Senior Lecturer in History, University College London

1 Sources and methods
11 The priests and religious authority
ur The place of gods and goddesses in the life of Rome
Iv Religion and action
v Adjusting to the new Republic
vr Innovation and change

Appendix
by A. Drummond

1 Early Roman chronology
11 The consular fasti: 509-220 B.C.

Chronological table

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

481
483
484

486

499
506

S17
520
526

530

537
545
554

557
566

57°

573

$73
582
59°
598
610
616

625
625
627
645

CONTENTS ix
BIBLIOGRAPHY

Abbreviations page 673
A General 678
B Sources and evidence 683
a. Literary and documentary sources 683

b. Epigraphic and numismatic evidence. The development of
Roman coinage 691
c. Archaeological evidence 694
C Geography 700
D__ The chronology of early Rome. The fasti consulares JO
E The ‘foundation’ of Rome 7O2
a. The foundation legends 702
b. The origins and development of the city 705

F The monarchy, the establishment of the Republic and the later
aspirants to kingship 708
G_ Early Rome 71
a. Social, economic and cultural development 711
b. Law 718
c. Religion 725
d. Political and military institutions 733
H_ Early republican Rome: internal politics 742

a. Patriciate and plebs. The ‘Struggle of the Orders’ to the Lex

Hortensia 742
b. Aristocratic politics in the fourth and third centuries 747
I Latium, the Latins and Rome 748
J Rome: external relations to 264 B.c. 751
a. The peoples and cultures of pre-Roman Italy 751
b. Roman expansion in Italy 757
c. Pyrrhus 761
K Rome and Carthage 763
a. Carthage: history, institutions and culture 763
b. The early Romano-Carthaginian treaties 768
c. The First Punic War 770
Index 772

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

x CONTENTS
NOTE ON THE BIBLIOGRAPHY

The bibliography is arranged in sections dealing with specific topics, which sometimes
correspond to individual chapters but more often combine the contents of several
chapters. References in the footnotes are to these sections (which are distinguished by
capital letters) and within these sections each book or article has assigned to it a number
which is quoted in the footnotes. In these, so as to provide a quick indication of the nature
of the work referred to, the author’s name and the date of publication are also included in
each reference. Thus “Ogilvie 1965(B129], 232’ signifies ‘R. M. Ogilvie, A Commentary on
Livy Books 1-5. Oxford, 1965, p. 232, to be found in Section B of the bibliography as item
129’.

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

OOD MIN AM AY DN

TABLES

Roman census figures to 234/3 B.C.

The centuriate organization according to Livy

The entry of gentes into office: 509-401 B.C.

The distribution of office: 509-445 and 444-367 B.c.

Early Roman/Latin colonies with attributed or probable dates
Roman triumphs: 509-368 B.c.

Roman triumphs: 367-264 B.c.

The mass enslavement of prisoners in the Third Samnite War
Latin colonies: 334-263 B.C.

Roman temple construction: 302-264 B.C.

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

page 137

164
207
208
280
290
363
389
495
408

on Aum RY N

10
Il
12
13
14
15

MAPS

Central Italy in the archaic period

Archaic Latium

Central Italy in the fifth century B.c.

The Celts of North Italy: fourth and third centuries B.c.
The peoples of Central-Southern Italy ¢. 350 B.c.
The Roman conquest of peninsular Italy (North)
The Roman conquest of peninsular Italy (South)
Central Samnium

Northern Greece in the time of Pyrrhus

South Italy in the time of Pyrrhus

The western Mediterranean in the third century
North Africa in the third century

Sicily in the First Punic War

Panormus and its hinterland

Drepana, Eryx and Lilybaeum

xii

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page 32-3

244
283
304
352
354
355
358
460
464

488-9

§23
538
558
561

OD OH AM RY KN

eee
vw ew NN

17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32

TEXT-FIGURES

Etruscan inscription from Tarquinii (¢. 700 B.C.)

Fresco from Esquiline tomb (third century?)

Fragment of the Capitoline Fasti

Fragment of the Acta Capitolina Triumphalia

Denarius depicting L. Iunius Brutus and C. Servilius Ahala
Depiction of hoplite column on ostrich egg from Vulci
‘Palace’ at Murlo (early sixth century): plan

Murlo ‘palace’: architectural friezes

‘Palace’ at Acquarossa (550-525 B.C.): plan

‘Palace’ at Acquarossa: reconstruction

Acquarossa ‘palace’: architectural frieze

‘Minotaur’ architectural terracotta plaque from Roman Forum
Phases of the Regia: archaic period

Terracotta plaque from Sant’ Omobono temple (¢. 540/30 B.C.)
Friezes depicting Pharaoh Bocchoris from faience vase at
Tarquinii

Bologna stele depicting wolf with child

Lavinium ‘heroon’: plan and reconstruction

Archaic Rome: location map

Palatine hut: plan and reconstruction

Bronze tripod from Castel di Decima (¢. 720-700 B.C.)
Lavinium and its environs

Minerva accompanied by Triton: statue-group from Lavinium
Manios fibula

Central Rome: location map

‘Rex’ inscription from Regia

Duenos vase

Archaic temple at Sant? Omobono: plan and reconstruction
Ivory lion with Etruscan inscription from Sant? Omobono
Terracotta plaque from Comitium

Denarius depicting Diana Nemorensis

Denarius depicting cult statue of Artemis at Massalia

Wall paintings from Tomba Frangois at Vulci

xiil

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page 12
13
18
20
25
36
41

42-3
43
44
45
45

46-7
49

54
60

60-1
62
67-8
Jo
71
72
74
75
76
77
78-9
79
82
85
92
95

Xiv TEXT-FIGURES

33 ‘Publius Valerius’ inscription from Satricum 97
34 Inscription on jar from Osteria dell’Osa 101
35 Marble incinerary urn from Esquiline 127
36 Denarius depicting column statue of L. Minucius 133
37 The South Etruria survey: patterns and density of settlement 140-3
38 Terracotta frieze plaques from Rome 169
39 Engraved discus from Lanuvium tomb 170
40 Territories of the Latin city-states ¢. 500 B.C. 246
41 The size of cities in the archaic and classical periods 247
42 Capitoline temple: plan 252
43 The earliest rural tribes: location map 254
44 Pyrgi tablets: the longer Etruscan text 256
45 The Etruscan and Roman town of Veii 296
46 Tarquinian elogium 301
47 The growth of Roman power, 390—263 B.c. 382
48 Roman colonization in Italy to 263 B.c. 390
49 Development of the Roman tribes, 387-241 B.c. 404
so The city of Rome in the early third century B.c. 406-7
51 Early Roman silver coins 41§-7
52 Inscription on donarium from Sant’? Omobono sanctuary 425
53 Pyrrhus: coins 465
54 Inscription from Dodona commemorating Pyrrhus’ victory at

Heraclea 469
55 Cast bronze bar depicting elephant and sow 477
56 Carthage 498
57 Carthaginian coins $07
58 Carthaginian stele depicting priest with infant $16
59 Illustrative reconstruction of the corvus $51
60 Commemorative inscription of C. Duillius (cos. 260) §§2
61 Funerary inscription of L. Cornelius Scipio (cos. 259) $53
62 Reconstruction of pre-Julian calendar (Fasti Antiates Maiores) $75
63 Dedication to Castor and Pollux (Lavinium) 579
64 Fragment of Attic crater depicting Hephaestus (Lapis Niger

votive deposit) 80

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PREFACE

The subject-matter of this volume is the history of Rome from the
earliest times until shortly before the Second Punic War. In the planning
of a new edition of Volume VII it was recognized from the start that
major changes were required in both the scale and the disposition of the
material to be presented. The undivided volume of the first edition
embraced both this period of Roman history and Hellenistic history from
301 tO 217 B.C.: two fields in which the scholars of the last half century
have made exceptional advances, both of discovery and of interpretation.
Accordingly, in this second edition Volume VII has been divided. Part 1,
published in 1984, is given over entirely to the Hellenistic history, while
the present volume contains a much expanded treatment of the Roman
history.

The reconstruction of the early history of Rome presents special
problems of its own. One of these is the rapid and continuing increase in
the archaeological evidence for Rome and its immediate environs, and
indeed for Central Italy as a whole. More fundamental, however, is the
peculiar mix of archaeological evidence with literary evidence which was
written centuries later. This gives rise not only to disputes about
particular conclusions but to much diversity in methodology and princi-
ples of interpretation. Consequently no single account may be taken as
definitive, and the editors of this volume, far from seeking a uniform
approach to the problems, have consciously embraced a variety of
responses.

The volume begins, therefore, with an examination of the sources,
undertaken by R. M. Ogilvie and A. Drummond. The earlier history of
Rome is then discussed at length by four scholars who each bring
distinctive insights to bear upon an aspect of ancient history which has
generated more deep-rooted controversy than most. A. D. Momigliano
and M. Torelli, adopting contrasting approaches, discuss the origins and
early development of Rome, after which A. Drummond and T. J.
Cornell explore the history of the Republic to the eve of the Pyrrhic War.
Pyrrhus himself and his war with Rome are the subject of a chapter by
P.R. Franke. E.S. Staveley writes on Rome and Italy in the third

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xvi PREFACE

century, while H.H. Scullard in his chapter on Rome and Carthage
discusses the institutions of Carthage and the development of Rome’s
extra-Italian interests, culminating in the First Punic War and its after-
math. To the latter chapter A. E. Astin appends a short section on the
emergence of the Roman provincial system. J. A. North examines early
republican history with a different emphasis and from a different point of
view in his chapter on society and religion. Broadly speaking the volume
follows Roman history to the eve of the Second Punic War, but it was
decided to reserve for Volume VIII the Illyrian wars and the involve-
ment of the Carthaginians in Spain, both of which are advantageously
considered in conjunction with later events. A full discussion of Roman
provincial administration will appear in Volume IX. Another consider-
ation which invites attention is the wider context within which Rome
developed, embracing other peoples of Italy and the Western Mediterra-
nean; and much of this material also is to be found in other volumes.
Especially relevant are chapters 12-15 of Volume IV, but Volumes IIL.3,
V and VI all contain pertinent sections.

This volume has been in the course of preparation for a considerable
time, most of the contributions having been first submitted by 1985 and
some as early as 1980. In many cases it has not been possible to take
account of the most recent work in the field. The bibliography, however,
has been updated (as far as possible) to 1986. The editors regret to have to
record several deaths which occurred during that period. M.W.
Frederiksen, who died in consequence of a road accident in 1980, was a
member of the original editorial team which planned the second editions
of Volumes VII and VIII. A. D. Momigliano and H. H. Scullard were
contributors to this volume. R. M. Ogilvie, who died in 1981, was both
contributor and the member of the team who initially took special
responsibility for the volume. It is a cause for deep regret that he did not
see the completion of a volume which already owed much to his work
and his remarkable scholarship.

Following R. M. Ogilvie’s death the outstanding chapters were edited
by F. W. Walbank and A. E. Astin, while A. Drummond undertook the
considerable task of editorial co-ordination. The editors acknowledge
with gratitude his invaluable assistance with such matters as biblio-
graphy, maps, illustrations and proofs, and generally with the format of
the volume and its preparation for the Press.

The editors wish to thank also several other persons for their assis-
tance, as well as the contributors for their patience. Judith Landry
translated M. Torelli’s contribution from the Italian, and Lyndall von
Dewitz translated P.R. Franke’s from the German. A. Drummond
acknowledges generous assistance received from the British Academy
and the Shefheld University Research Fund towards the cost of research

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PREFACE Xvii

for Chapters 4 and 5; and also the painstaking and constructive com-
ments made on those same chapters by Professor P. A. Brunt. David Cox
of Cox Cartographic Ltd drew the maps. The index was compiled by
Barbara Hird. Finally warm thanks are due to the staff of the Cambridge
University Press for their constant encouragement, care and help.
A.E.A.
F.W.W.

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

CHAPTER 1

THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

R.M. OGILVIE AND A. DRUMMOND

The first section of this chapter deals with the main literary and archaeo-
logical sources for early Roman history. The second considers the type of
material which was at the disposal of the historians of Rome for the regal
period and the fifth century and how they used it.!

I. THE SURVIVING EVIDENCE
(a) Literary sources

There were three, possibly four, main historical strands - Greek, Roman,
Etruscan and Carthaginian. The Carthaginian can be discounted, be-
cause, although probably used at second-hand by the Greek historian
Polybius, nothing survives or can be recovered independently. The
Emperor Claudius in a famous speech preserved at Lyons (ILS 212)
refers to “Tuscan authors’ (‘auctores . . Tuscos’) in connexion with the
legend of Mastarna and the Vibennae (see p. 94f). There are a few other
references to Etruscan historians and Claudius’ account is strikingly
corroborated by frescoes from the Frangois tomb at the Etruscan city of
Vulci. Nevertheless, there is no evidence for Etruscan writers who were
active in the fifth or fourth century. Claudius’ ‘Tuscan authors’ were
learned scholars with an Etruscan background, like A. Caecina, writing
in the first century B.c. We cannot reconstruct their work or judge how
reliable it was.

The Greeks, on the other hand, knew about Rome from an early date.
Aristotle was aware of the capture of Rome by the Gauls in 390 B.c., and
a series of minor historians interested themselves in the foundation
legends of the city. One or two early Greek writers are of considerable
importance even though their works do not survive. Imbedded in the
history of Dionysius of Halicarnassus (At. Rom. v11.3ff) is an extensive
excursus about Aristodemus, the tyrant of Cumae, and his defeat of the

' Professor Ogilvie was primarily responsible for Section 1, Dr Drummond for Section 1. The
draft of Section 1 was edited by Dr Drummond after Professor Ogilvie’s death but its substance
femains as originally written.

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2 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

Etruscan Porsenna near Ariciac. 504 B.c. The source is clearly Greek and
probably originates from not long after the event. If he is not a local
historian, he is likely to be Timaeus of Tauromenium (Taormina in
Sicily) who wrote on the Western Greeks and on Pyrrhus. Timaeus was
born in the mid-fourth century and, although he spent much of his
working life, fifty years he said, in exile in Athens (Polyb. xu.25d.1:
perhaps ¢. 315-264 B.c.), he always retained his interests and contacts in
Magna Graecia. He knew much about the growing power of Rome.

Four other Greek historians are of fundamental importance for our
knowledge of early Rome, although they were writing after Roman
historiography had established itself. The first is Polybius (born in
Megalopolis ¢. 210-200 B.c.), who was detained by the Romans in 167
B.C. as politically unreliable (xxvii1.13.9-13). Later he made many
friends among the Roman nobility, particularly Scipio Aemilianus, and
wrote a detailed history from the antecedents of the First Punic War to
146 B.c. For early Roman history and the Punic wars Polybius seems to
have used as a main source the Roman Fabius Pictor and also (for
Romano-Carthaginian affairs) the Greek Philinus (p. 486 n.1). It is
probable, despite his sharp criticisms (x11.3—16), that he also consulted
Timaeus regularly and in detail. Whether he used other Roman histori-
ans, suchas L. Cincius Alimentus, C. Acilius, L. Cassius Hemina or Cato,
is quite unknown, but he was familiar with and critical of the pragmatike
historia ‘political (and military) history’ written in Greek by A. Postumius
Albinus (cos. 151 B.c.). Only Thucydides rivals Polybius as a scientific
and critical investigator. Unfortunately, of the forty books which he
wrote, only six survive in substance and Book vt, in which he dealt with
the affairs of early Rome, is itself fragmentary. We do not, therefore,
have a full or continuous account of what Polybius thought of the first
few centuries of Rome and even what we do have is clearly coloured by a
philosophical view of history, ultimately derived from Plato, which
thought of epochs as cyclically determined, but which is further compli-
cated by an intricate and perhaps inconsistent attitude to the role which
Fortune (Tyche) played in those events.

Nonetheless, Polybius’ ideas exercised some influence on later ac-
counts of Rome’s development, most notably that in Cicero’s De
Republica (11.1-63), written in 5 4-1 B.c. and itself preserved in a fragmen-
tary condition. Here the discussion operates formally in terms of a
constitution comprising elements of monarchy, aristocracy and demo-
cracy which are all already present in the regal period but are only
brought into a true balance in the early Republic. The overall theme owes
much to the argument of Polybius’ sixth book, although Cicero is more
positive in his evaluation of the contribution of the component elements
in the constitution (which for Polybius functioned principally as checks

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THE SURVIVING EVIDENCE 3

on each other) and stresses above all the moral qualities needed to
maintain the proper constitutional balance. Unfortunately, however, for
the details of his historical sketch Cicero may depend on later annalists
alongside Polybius and he cannot, therefore, be used to fill the lacunae in
Polybius’ text or be taken as a sure guide to the historical traditions
already current in the mid-second century or beyond.?

Like Polybius, Diodorus Siculus (so named because he was born at
Agyrium in Sicily) also was the author of a history in forty books (of
which fifteen are extant) written in Greek, although he obviously spent
much of the thirty or more years which he devoted to its composition in
Rome (probably from ¢. 70 to at least 36 B.c.). It was a ‘universal history’
covering the affairs of all the known countries of the civilized world. As
one would expect, it is derivative and for the sections on early Roman
affairs (where the narrative is preserved in full only for the Varronian
years 486-302 B.c.) Diodorus used an unidentified historian as his main
or only source.3 Whether the brevity and character of his account
indicate dependence on an early annalist* is uncertain: they may reflect
his own comparative neglect of Roman history before the late fourth
century (cf. p. 310).

Dionysius of Halicarnassus was born about 60 B.c. He made his name
as a rhetorician and came to Rome in 30 B.c. after the decisive battle of
Actium. He seems to have won an entrée to distinguished critical circles
at Rome but he also had a deep interest in Roman history and devoted
twenty-two years of research to the writing of his twenty books of Roman
Antiquities. Eleven books, taking the story down to 444 B.c., remain and
there are excerpts from the other nine (concluding with the start of the
First Punic War). Dionysius relied largely on the same sources as his
contemporary Livy — namely the annalistic historians of the early part of
the century (see below) — but he has some valuable and recondite versions
of regal history and for pre-regal Rome even uses authors like the Greek
historians Pherecydes and Antiochus of Syracuse. For that period espe-
cially he was a serious researcher (cf. Ant. Rom. 1.32.2; 32.43 37-23 55-25
68.1—2, et al.) and quotes over fifty authorities.

He remains, however, the moralizing rhetorician as historian. His
work is formally structured, with sharp divisions into ‘Domestic’ and
‘Foreign’ affairs, and is distinguished by the prolific elaboration of the
speeches and the similarly detailed (and fictitious) reconstruction of
events as both a guide to statesmen and a source of literary diversion.
Episodic treatment rather than a coherent philosophy characterizes
much of Dionysius’ approach to political developments but he remains

2 Cf. Rambaud 1953(B1r47], 75ff.

3 See Perl 1957[Dz5], 162ff for suggested identifications.
‘ As Stuart Jones in the first edition of CAH vm (Cambridge, 1928) 318f.

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4 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

heavily indebted to the traditions of Greek political theory and historio-
graphy. These are reflected, for example, in the occasional employment
of the notion (again influenced by Polybius) that Rome’s political
structures developed into a combination of monarchy, aristocracy and
democracy, in his detailed discussion of constitutional innovations and
their significance, in the attention paid to legal formalities. He is no less
interested in the forms of economic and social dependence by which the
aristocracy reinforced its position. Above all, he owes to Greek tradi-
tions the strongly political character of his history and his robust, often
cynical attitude to political conflict, which on occasions even transcends
his fundamental aristocratic sympathies but seldom rises above the
stereotyped and superficial.

Finally, Plutarch. Born at Chaeronea in central Greece c. a.D. 46,
Plutarch studied at Athens and travelled widely as a young man —
especially to Egypt and Italy. His most important contribution to history
was the Parallel Lives which range from the mythical (e.g. Romulus) to
the historical (e.g. Julius Caesar): their value can only be as good as that
of his sources (and even so Plutarch recast his material to suit his own
artistic and moral objectives), but although he relied on authors still
extant, such as Dionysius of Halicarnassus, he also had access to many
works which no longer survive, and it is the unexpected details which
crop up from time to time in his writings that make Plutarch such a vital
authority. He also wrote a series of books on religious, philosophical and
moral matters and his Roman Questions contains much previous informa-
tion and speculation on early Roman religion.5

Roman historiography began at the end of the third century B.c. but
the earliest historical work was almost certainly the epic poem on the
First Punic War written in the later third century by one of the comba-
tants, Cn. Naevius from Campania. This was as factual as it was dramatic
and was followed by another epic, the Chronicle (Annales) of Q. Ennius
(239-?169 B.C.) from Rudiae in Calabria. Ennius recounted Roman
history to his own day in eighteen books, the first three covering the
Aeneas legend and the monarchy, the next two the fifth and fourth
centuries. The fragments from the regal period demonstrate the already
detailed development of several major episodes. The early Republic is
less well represented but Ennius’ primary interest here (as perhaps that of
the older prose historians) was evidently military. How far his work was
later used as a historical source is controversial, but the Asnales was
widely read in the last two centuries B.c. and with its apparent emphasis
on ancient traditions of conduct, on Rome’s religious institutions, on her

5 The much later account of Cassius Dio (early third century a.D.) is preserved for this period only

in fragments and in the twelfth-century epitomizing universal history of Zonaras (who also used
Plutarch). It is derivative (not least from Livy) but occasionally preserves variants otherwise lost.

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THE SURVIVING EVIDENCE 5

military achievement and on individual heroism and renown it must have
exercised an important influence on Roman attitudes to their past.

The Annales was probably begun c¢. 187 B.c.®° If so, Ennius almost
certainly had available the first prose history, that of Q. Fabius Pictor.
Fabius had served as an official delegate to Delphi in 216 B.c. (App. Hann.
27). His history has perished but an inscription from a library at
Taormina’ gives a summary of the contents, and citations by Dionysius,
Livy and other historians enable us to gain some insight into its scope,
sources and purpose. Fabius wrote in Greek, the only available literary
language at the time, with a view to establishing Rome in the eyes of the
world, especially the Greek world, as a civilized and great nation.
Whether he wrote in the dying days of the Second Punic War or, more
probably, in the immediately succeeding years, his aim was chauvinistic.
Attention was concentrated on the foundation legends of Rome and on
events of Fabius’ own day, while there seems to have been little detailed
account of events of the fifth and fourth centuries, presumably for lack of
evidence. Fabius has been condemned for wide-spread falsification of
early Roman history® but extant fragments only admit of a verdict of
non-proven.

Fabius was followed by L. Cincius Alimentus, but of his work we
know nothing, except that he also wrote in Greek, had been captured by
Hannibal and was a senator. Only five fragments survive but again they
reveal an interest in very early legend (fr. 3-GP) and contemporary Punic
affairs (fr. 7P). The great hiatus of early republican history remains. Of
C. Acilius, another senator who wrote res Romanas in Greek early in the
first half of the second century, and A. Postumius Albinus (cos. 151 B.C.)
who was devoted to Greek language and studies (Polyb. xxxrx.1) and
also wrote a history of Rome (p. 2), nothing of significance is left.

The new start came with M. Porcius Cato, the elder (234-149 B.C.,
consul in 195 B.C., censor in 184 B.C.), who was the first historian to write
in Latin. At least for history before his own day Cato abandoned the
annalistic method, employed by historians before and after him, who
recorded events year by year, in favour of a much broader outlook. The
first three books dealt with the foundation of Rome and other Italian
cities. Cato took advantage not only of the fable convenue but also made a
serious effort to seek out original documents (cf. e.g. fr. 58P, which gives
a list of Latin communities who made a dedication at Aricia (p. 272)).
Books 4 and 5 dealt with the Carthaginian Wars and brought the
story down to 167 B.c. The date of publication is not certain but the shape

6 See, e.g., Jocelyn 1972(B81), 997-9; cf. also Skutsch 1985(B169], 2ff (c. 184 B.C.).
7 Manganaro 1974[Brot], 389-409; 1976[B1o2], 83-96.
8 Most notably by Alfdldi 1965({I3]; see pp. 248ff.

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6 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

of the work raises an unanswerable question: how did Cato deal with the
fifth and fourth centuries?

For a generation Roman historians do not seem to have added much.
Acilius and Postumius are shadowy figures; a descendant of Q. Fabius
Pictor (?N. Fabius Pictor) may have translated some or all of his
predecessor’s work into Latin; L. Cassius Hemina (f. 146 B.c.: see fr.
39P) was quoted as an authority by the elder Pliny (e.g:, HN xviu.7) and
later scholars, but we do not know the scale or originality of his work.
Book 2 was still dealing with immediately post-regal figures such as
Porsenna (fr. 16P); Book 4 is entitled ‘Bellum Punicum posterior’, ‘The
later Punic War’ (fr. 31 P). Itcan, therefore, be assumed that Cassius also
gave very little attention to the early years of the Republic.

It is this gap which raises such intriguing questions as the second
century draws to an end. In or after 130 B.c. the chief pontifex (pontifex
maximus), P. Mucius Scaevola, ended the practice by which every year a
whitened board was put up outside his residence which probably re-
corded calendaric events (e.g. the dates of festivals) and also, as they
occurred, other events of a semi-religious significance (e.g. elections,
triumphs, portents and prodigies). The evidence for Scaevola’s action is
clearly given by Cicero (De Or. 11.52: ‘usque ad P. Mucium pontificem
maximum res omnes singulorum annorum mandabat litteris pontifex
maximus’). Quite separately the Vergilian scholar Servius records that
the contents of these records were published in eighty books (ad Verg.
Aen. 1.373), but Servius gives no date and does not mention Scaevola.
Until recently it has been taken for granted that the material from these
pontifical Annales Maximi was published by Scaevola and first used by L.
Calpurnius Piso Frugi (cos. 133 B.C.) in his historical Annales, scathingly
described by Cicero (Brut. 106) as ‘very meagrely written’ (‘sane exiliter
scriptos’) but often quoted, for instance by Livy. There are, however,
difficulties. Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Ant. Rom. 1.74.3) claims that
Polybius used the pontifical sabu/a,!° and that must have been many years
before P. Mucius Scaevola. Secondly, we would expect a huge expansion
of fifth- and fourth-century material in Piso’s history but, once again, he
was already dealing with the affairs of 305 and 304 B.c. in his Book 3
(Livy 1x.44.2; Gell. NA vit). Therefore, the archival material which
fills the first Decade of Livy cannot have been available to Piso or, if it
was, was not exploited by him. Thirdly, ancient references to the Amnales,
while containing a few curiosities (such as the eclipse of 400 B.c.: Cic.
Rep. 1.25 (cf. p. 21)), also contain much fiction (especially in the quota-
tions from the fourth-century A.D. Origo gentis Romanae). So it may be that

9 ‘Down to the time when P. Mucius was pontifex maximus, the pontifex maximus used to commit
to writing every event of each year.’
10 For a different interpretation see Walbank 1937—79[B182}, 1.665 (on Polyb. vi.11a.2).

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THE SURVIVING EVIDENCE 7

the annual notices were transferred by the pontifex maximus every year
(perhaps from about 500 B.c. or asa result of the activities of Cn. Flavius
¢. 300 B.C. (p. 396)) into continuous commentaries which could be used
for practical purposes, such as providing precedents for dealing with reli-
gious emergencies. Historians like Q. Fabius Pictor or Polybius, because
of their social position, could always have consulted such commentaries,
if they had been interested. But the publication in eighty books looks
much more like an antiquarian venture, typical of the first century B.c."!
and it is hard to see Piso’s history as the turning point which it has so
often been assumed to be.

There are other historians known from this period!? but we cannot
appreciate their contribution. It is in the first half of the first century B.c.
that a new impetus was given to Roman historiography and it was
inspired by two important factors — a growing awareness of documents,
inscriptions and other archival materials, on the one hand, and, on the
other, a desire to understand history politically (and if necessary to
rewrite it politically). In this period the names of four authors stand out
although their works survive only in miserly fragments: Q. Claudius
Quadrigarius, C. Licinius Macer, Valerius Antias and Q. Aelius Tubero.
One thing is immediately apparent. Their works were much longer —
Quadrigarius at least twenty-three books, Macer sixteen,!3 Antias no less
than seventy-five. The sudden wealth of detail has arrived, although
interestingly Quadrigarius seems to have begun his history in 390 B.c.,
presumably because he regarded fifth-century and earlier history as
largely legendary.'4

C. Licinius Macer is the best known. Tribune of the plebs in 73 B.c. and
father of the poet C. Licinius Calvus, Macer was a popularis in politics, a
supporter of Marius in the troubles of the eighties. It cannot be doubted
that this coloured his interpretation of history, especially in the desire to
see antecedents of more recent political measures (e.g. the Gracchan
proposals) in the remote past. This must have helped to swell the size of
his account of early Roman history and can be traced in Livy. But Macer,
as the fragments show, was also an antiquarian. He found inthe temple of
Iuno Moneta some Linen Books (“bri lintet) which gave a list of magis-

Frier 1979[B57] makes out a case for the Augustan antiquarian Verrius Flaccus as the author.

12 Notably Cn. Gellius, who has sometimes been credited with at least ninety-seven books. In
fact, however, in the relevant passage Charisius cites from Book 27 (Gramm. p. 68B).

13 Or even twenty-one. Priscian’s allusion (Inst. x11.12, GL m1 p. 8K) to Book Two as dealing
with Pyrrhus must be a textual corruption.

14 Cf. p. 21, Quadrigarius’ first book probably covered most or all of the fourth century from 390;
extensive consecutive treatment began only with the Samnite, Pyrrhic and Punic wars. For an
assessment of his history and the question of his relationship to C. Acilius, whose Greek history he
supposedly partly or wholly translated into Latin (Livy xxv.39.12; cf. xxxv.14.5), see Zimmerer
1937[B194]; Klotz 1942[B89], 268-85; Badian 1966[B6], 18-20 (emphasizing his patriotic distortion
and devotion to entertaining narrative).

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8 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

trates!5 and he also unearthed a treaty between Romeand Ardea which he
dated to 444 B.c. (fr. 13P). Cicero had a poor opinion of him (Bru. 238)
and criticized his loquacity (Leg. 1.7), just as Livy criticized him for
inventing stories for the greater glory of his own family (vu. 9.5: his son’s
name Calvus is itself romantic).

Valerius Antias is more problematical. We do not know his praenomen
or his family background. There was a L. Valerius Antias who com-
manded some ships in 215 B.c. (Livy xx11I.34.9), which indicates that his
family played a cadet role in the Roman political life of the Valerii. Nor
can we be sure about his date. Velleius Paterculus (11.9.6) makes him a
contemporary of Sisenna (praetor in 78 B.c.), P. Rutilius Rufus (praetor
before 118 B.c.; exiled in 92) and Claudius Quadrigarius, which should
place him in the eighties and seventies B.c., but he is not mentioned by
Cicero in his judgement of historians before his day and this has led
scholars, without adequate justification, to argue that he was writing as
late as the time of Caesar. There are no certain allusions to mid-first-
century events in the fragments. On the other hand, like Macer, he clearly
publicized his own gens and many Valerian laws and actions from the
early centuries have to be disregarded. He was censured even in antiquity
for his reckless assertion of numbers (e.g. military casualties) which must
have come from his fertile imagination rather than from newly discov-
ered documents, although he does seem to have had a real interest in
Roman institutions such as the triumph or the secular games. His
political affiliations are not known: if he was writing in the early part of
the century, perhaps an admiration for the Sullan restoration. But Antias
was certainly prolific and provided much of the raw material for Livy’s
own history.

Q. Aelius Tubero came from a literary family (L. Tubero, a legate of
Q. Cicero in 6o B.c., was something of an historian (QO Fr. 1.1.10)) and
Dionysius of Halicarnassus addressed a long essay On Thucydides to a
Q. Aelius Tubero. There was also a notable jurist of the same name (Gell.
NA 1.22.7). Livy quotes Q. Tubero as an annalistic source from time to
time. It is probable that the jurist, the annalist and Dionysius’ patron
were one and the same person, the father of the consul of 11 B.c.!6
Tubero’s history was at least fourteen books long (fr. 10P) and so
designed on the same larger scale as his immediate predecessors, but the
fragments give little or no idea of its character, except that he too had
consulted documents (Livy t1v.23.1) and conducted independent re-
search (fr. 9P). He would have been writing in the forties and thirties B.c.

'5 The Linen Books are cited four times in Livy for issues concerning the identity of magistrates
between 444 and 428 B.c. (cf. p. 18). How far they went outside these chronological limits and
whether they contained more than a list of magistrates is not known, although Livy rv.13.7 suggests
that at most they included only brief notices.

16 See Ogilvie 1965(Brz9], 16-17; 570-1 (on Livy tv.23.1).

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THE SURVIVING EVIDENCE 9

It is ironic but perhaps not accidental that the only work which does
survive is Books 1—x (75 3~—293 B.C.) and xxI-xLv (219-167 B.c.) of the
massive 142-book history of T. Livius (Livy) from Padua (¢. 59 B.c.—A.D.
17). Unlike all his predecessors Livy did not belong to the Establish-
ment. He held no public office; he did not even have the family back-
ground of a Valerius Antias; he was criticized by Asinius Pollio for his
‘provincialness’ (‘Patavinitas’); although he was acquainted with Augus-
tus (Tac. Asn. 1v.34) and acted as literary tutor to the young Claudius
(Suet. Claud. 41.1), he never figured in the literary world of Augustan
Rome and died at Padua, not Rome. His knowledge of Greek was
competent but not more than competent; his interest in research mini-
mal. Yet he in part survived and Quadrigarius, Macer, Antias and
Tubero did not. Why? Obviously sheer literary genius accounted for
much; obviously too the combination of freedom, moral earnestness and
patriotic fervour, which is also the hall-mark of the Aeneid.

Livy’s History deals only briefly with the mythical events preceding the
foundation of Rome and the regal period is also covered in a reduced
compass by comparison with the early Republic. These appear to be
innovations on Livy’s part and they signify his predominant concern
with Rome’s historical achievement, above all in the military sphere, and
its moral and political background. Livy lays less emphasis than
Dionysius on constitutional developments for their own sake (the estab-
lishment of both the quaestorship and plebeian aedileship, for example, is
omitted) and conveys little sense of inherent institutional imbalance in
the early Republic. What matters to him (even more than to Dionysius)
are the moral qualities, of both leaders and led, which are essential to the
preservation of internal harmony and thereby to external success. In this
general preoccupation and its detailed elaboration Livy is, of course,
reacting to the experiences of the late Republic and his approach to his
material is strongly conditioned by his view of Rome’s contemporary
failings. Nonetheless, he is basically retailing at second, third or fourth
hand the evidence of earlier historians and doing so with prejudice and
without a critical or scholarly intent. Since the works of these earlier
historians do not survive, it is a nice judgement how far Livy has
reproduced them accurately and how far they, for their part, were in any
position to give an authoritative account of early Roman history. Every
scrap has to be scrutinized.

(b) Antiquarian writers

Livy was an annalist, recording history year by year, however improb-
able. So was Dionysius of Halicarnassus. But in the first century B.c.
there was also a new development. Pure antiquarianism became fashion-
able, again largely as a result of Hellenistic influences, especially the

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10 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

Museum at Alexandria, and there emerged a group of learned writers
who devoted their energies simply to antiquarian scholarship for its own
sake, who looked at records, however uncritically, because they saw
them as the raw material of history, and who, above all, studied the
enduring history of Roman religion and institutions.

Two scholars of major importance merit special consideration but
from the late second century B.c. onwards there were many more —
Iunius Gracchanus and Sempronius Tuditanus (both writing works on
the Roman magistracies), Cincius, Q. Cornificius, Nigidius Figulus (‘On
Thunderclaps’), Cornelius Nepos (¢. 99 B.C. to¢. 27 B.c.) and then Atticus
(110 B.C. to 32 B.c.), who made the first serious attempts to utilize the
principles set by Eratosthenes to establish Roman chronology,
Tarquitius Priscus, A. Caecina and Fenestella (d. a.p. 19), to name only a
few who investigated the byways of history. Of the greatest of them,
M. Terentius Varro (116—278B.C.), only two works survive (partially) and
neither of them is of fundamental relevance to Roman history (De Lingua
Latina (‘On the Latin Language’) and De Re Rustica (‘On farming’)), but
his output was phenomenal (620 volumes, so it is said). Much of this
abstruse scholarship was passed on through various channels to the
Middle Ages and Renaissance (the most important intermediaries were
the Latin Fathers of the Church). Varro, following on the work of Nepos
and Atticus, may have established the dating system for early Roman
history which has become standard (ab urbe condita, ‘from the foundation
of the city’: he probably placed the foundation of Rome in the year which
by our practice is known as 753 B.c.).!7 It is presumed that this was set out
in his work entitled Annales, the date of which is unknown. Varro also
published forty-two volumes on Human and Divine Antiquities, probably
in 42 B.c. (although the date is disputed and the publication may have
been spread over a number of years). This work included the explanation
of many religious cults and many legendary tales. From the De Lingua
Latina we know that one of his main tools of research was the use of
etymology, often erratic, if not eccentric (e.g. the role of one Cornelius
(cf. cornu horn’) in the sacrifice of a miraculous cow by King Servius
Tullius: Plut. Quaest. Rom. 4; cf. Livy 1.45.3ff). But Varro was thorough
and systematic and if, as is probable, the digression in Livy vi1.2.3ff on
the origins of Roman comedy is derived from him, then it reveals
painstaking investigation of Etruscan and Roman institutions; and
although he was concerned not with the philosophical panorama of
history but with the idle tit-bits, any citation from his works must be
treated as very serious evidence, even if only to be discarded.

In contrast to Varro, a man of position who had written a constitu-

17 On the ‘Varronian’ chronology (used throughout this volume) and other chronological
systems for early Roman history see pp. 347ff; 625 ff.

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THE SURVIVING EVIDENCE II

tional hand-book for the young Pompey, Verrius Flaccus was a freed-
man. We do not know his antecedents but he was recognized by
Augustus, who gave him a house, a pension and the over-sight of his
grandsons’ education. Verrius was obviously inspired by Varro, to
whom he often refers, and he wrote a wide miscellany of books on a
variety of antiquarian topics. His longest work was a dictionary, On the
Significance of Words (De Verborum Significatuz), which reflected Varro’s
linguistic interests but which adopted, perhaps for the first time in Latin,
the principle of listing words alphabetically rather than by subject-
matter. It was so huge a work (the letter A took four books alone) that, as
was increasingly the custom in the Empire, it was abridged by Pompeius
Festus at the end of the second century and further abridged in the
Carolingian age. It is these abridgements which survive, and they contain
a rare collection of antiquarian oddities, which are invaluable to a
modern historian. Verrius is also quoted by the Fathers and other later
writers whose works survive, such as Servius and Macrobius.

There are other names to conjure with. The geographers contribute
much and of them Strabo (Aelius Strabo, born ¢. 64 B.c.) has left a
Geography of great erudition. Like Dionysius he had come to Rome after
the Battle of Actium in 31 B.c. He was widely travelled and had also
composed a History which has perished, but the Geography reveals an
interest in early Etruria and Latium and contains some precious facts.

Although the alphabet was introduced into Central Italy from the Greek
world c. 700 B.c. (Fig. 1) and inscriptions appear at Rome at the end of the
seventh century,!8 it is surprising how little actual epigraphic material
survives from the period 600-250 B.c. This may be a fact of chance; or it
may be that writing was at first an aristocratic and hieratical phenomenon
and not until Rome’s increasing contact with other powers such as
Greece and Carthage was it employed ona major scale as an instrument of
government and communication. Atall events the surviving inscriptions
earlier than the tombs of the Scipios in the third century are meagre and
often highly controversial,'® adding little to our knowledge of early
Roman history.

Yet there was an alternative history of Rome. Probably not all that
different, but it would be interesting to have it. There is a fresco from a

18 P. 81. On the introduction of writing to Central Italy cf. Cristofani 1972[G43], 466-89;
1978[G45}, 5-33; and in Ridgway and Ridgway 1979[Ari1], 373-412.

19 So, for example, the early sixth-century inscription ona stele from the Lapis Niger shrine in the
Comitium which apparently prescribes penalties for sacral violations but has defied complete
elucidation.

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12 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

wW Ray
a\\ Ip,

2
: My
&
3 =
Te s

8 =

Fig. 1. Perhaps the earliest known Etruscan inscription on the foot of a proto-Corinthian
kotyle from Tarquinii (¢. 700 B.c.). The iriscription (from right to left) reads:

mi velef§us kacriqu numesiesi putes kraitilesBis putes
The full sense is uncertain but the text apparently records the making or giving of the vase by
a Velthu for or to a Numerius. See M. Cristofani, ASNP ser. 111.1 (1971) 295-9 (drawing after
ib. 296).

tomb of the Fabii on the Esquiline hill at Rome (Fig. 2), probably
recording some unknown events of the Samnite wars; there are the much
more famous frescoes from the Frangois tomb at Vulci which confirm a
tradition, known otherwise only from an odd reference in Claudius’
speech (ILS 212) and a mutilated fragment in Festus (486L), that a
condottiere called Mastarna (?= Lat. Magister) with other warriors from
Vulci, notably the brothers Vibennae (also known independently: cf.
Varro, Ling. v.46), was in fact the king known to history as Servius
Tullius.” Perhaps the most dramatic instance of this alternative history is
the recently discovered inscription from the second temple at Satricum
which dates from ¢. 500 and records a dedication by the suodales (com-
rades) of Publius Valerius to Mars (p.97). One Publius Valerius, surely
this one, is well-known to history (see p. 174). But who are these suodales?
Why to Mars?

Other inscriptions fill out or reinforce the information derived from
our literary sources. A Greek inscription of the late sixth century from
Tarquinii (‘I belong to Apollo of Aegina, Sostratus made me’2!) adds a
new dimension to our understanding of the intercourse between
Etruscans and Greeks (p. 49). From Tarquinii also come some com-
memorative inscriptions (e/ogia) recounting stirring deeds which have
left no other trace in the annalistic record (p. 300). No doubt other
discoveries will be made.

2 For further discussion see p. 94f (with a different view). 2! Torelli 1971[G499], 44ff-

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THE SURVIVING EVIDENCE 13

But what is tantalizing is the epigraphic evidence which is lost. Greek
and Roman scholars often (although uncritically) cite inscriptions, but
many of these must either be bogus or be renewals as the result either of
the decay of the original or of the need to update them so that a modern
generation could actually understand what was written. One clear case of
such modernization is an inscription preserved in Festus (180L) and,
therefore, certainly derived from Varro or Verrius Flaccus, commemo-

ih NG PAgic
!
i

he
cu

Fig. 2. Fresco from Esquiline tomb (third century>). The interpretation of the scenes is
uncertain; they may depict actions involving Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus (cos. 322; 310; 308;
296; 295) during the Samnite wars (p. 412). After Roma medio-repubblicana 1973 (B4o1], fig. 15.

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14 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

rating nine ex-consuls killed in the Volscian Wars of the early fifth
century. Festus’ version must be false (it contains cognomina),2 and yet
Varro or Verrius cannot have invented it. Another is a censors’ docu-
ment of 392 B.c. (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.74.5): it also anachronistically
employs cognomina and uses a literary rather than a documentary form of
dating (‘in the 119th year after the overthrow of the kings’); indeed, there
may have been no census in that year (cf. Festus sooL).

There is, in fact, a large quantity of inscriptions (genuine or spurious)
which were known to ancient scholars but which no longer survive.
Obviously the most important of these for early republican history is a
fifth-century law-code (the Twelve Tables), many of whose provisions
can be recovered from later references. But also of international conse-
quence are the treaties with Carthage reported by Polybius (111.22—5) and
Livy (v11.27.2; Diod. xv1.69) which the Pyrgi inscriptions (p. 256) have
to some extent corroborated. More disputable but not really in doubt is
the dedication which Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Ant. Rom. 1v.26)
describes as ‘written in archaic Greek letters’ and which set out the rules
for the cult of Diana on the Aventine (p. 267). It also must bear some
relation to the cult inscription from Aricia (p. 272). There was the corslet
of the Roman military hero Cossus (Livy 1v.z0.7: p. 298) and the Linen
Books consulted by Macer, quite apart from the Amnales Maximi them-
selves. There were ‘Commentaries of Servius Tullius’ (Livy 1.60.3)
which alleged to give instructions on the election of consuls: in fact, they
are probably the same document as that compiled between ¢. 213 and 179
B.c. which gives the orthodox Servian ‘Constitution’ (p. 164) with its five
classes and consequent centuries. There was the law of the annual nail in
the temple of Iuppiter (Livy v1.3.5 (p.187)). From the fifth century also
there are mentions of surviving texts of Sp. Cassius’ treaty with the
Latins (¢. 493 B.C.: Dion. Hal. Ant. Row. v1.95 (p. 274)); a law inscribed
on a bronze column by L. Pinarius and Furius (coss. 472; Varro ap.
Macrob. Sat. 1.13.21); the Ardea treaty (see p. 174 n.8). In the fourth
century this list of inscriptions and documents increases, but the ques-
tions surrounding -their authenticity are not greatly altered.

22 Roman nomenclature became progressively more elaborate: the original single name (the later
‘forename’ (praenomen)) was gradually supplemented by a lineage or clan name (nomen gentile:
originally a patronymic (p. 98)). The date of the use of inherited additional names (cognomina), never
obligatory or universal in the republican period, is uncertain: in Etruscan occasional additional
names may appear as early as the sixth century (M. Pallottino, Gnomon 36 (1964), 804) but are not
common on inscriptions before the third century. Their adoption as inherited names at Rome was
probably largely conditioned by the desire to distinguish different branches of the same ‘clan’ (gens)
and presumably therefore varied from one gens to another (some never employed them). It therefore
seems unlikely that all fifth- and fourth-century magistrates had cognomina as our surviving lists
pretend (p. 628), and as they are otherwise not cited on inscriptions of officia] documents until the
second century, their alleged appearance in such a context three centuries earlier is highly suspect.

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THE SURVIVING EVIDENCE 15

(d) Archaeological and other evidence

The tombs, the buildings, the artefacts of a nation tell a great deal about
their character and about their development (or decline) and about their
relationships with their neighbours. This is particularly true of early
Rome. Recent discoveries in Latium and Campania, as well as in Etruria,
have shown that Rome was not peculiar or distinct in her development —
except in the sense that eventually she, because of her geographical
position and her tenacity, triumphed. In the sixth and fifth centuries
there was almost a common culture throughout Central Italy. Etrus-
can towns like Veii or Vulci had similar lifestyles to those that can be
recognized at Rome, Lavinium (Pratica di Mare), Ficana, Gabii, Decima
and elsewhere. This phenomenon extends right down to Campania,
because the entire network of communities, however ethnically differ-
ent, was bound together by commercial ties which were of far greater
significance. This characteristic is seen in the very strong Etruscan and
Greek influence on Rome and, more vitally, on other neighbourhood
towns; it is to be seen in the Valerius inscription (however we should
interpret it; p. 97); it is to be seen in the Latin influences on Campanian
artefacts; it may be seen in the way in which Roman constitutional organs
and social patterns evolved.?3 It is wrong to think that the Etruscans,
Latins and Greeks in the sixth century were fundamentally different in
their way of life.

Rome itself is an impossible place to excavate: too many layers of
priceless heritage have covered it. Only a few holes at occasional places
can be dug (in the Forum, or in the Forum Boarium at the present-day
church of Sant? Omobono) but even from these trifling excavations
enough has emerged to confirm, at least in general, the traditional
accaunt of the growth of the city (e.g. traces of a primitive Palatine
settlement have been found; the draining of the Forum area can be
approximately dated; various structural phases of the Regia (in the,
republican period the seat of the ‘priest-king’ (rex sacrorum) and perhaps
used by his regal predecessors) have been identified; unearthed antefixes
suggest a date c. 500 B.c. for the temple of Iuppiter Optimus Maximus on
the Capitoline hill2*). Conversely the excavations disclose no evidence
for a Gallic conflagration in c. 390 B.C. (p. 308). They do, however, bear
testimony to the cultural affinity of early Rome with its Etruscan and
Latin neighbours. Any idea of a uniquely different style of ‘Latial
pottery’, for example, must be abandoned and we should not think of an
‘Etruscan conquest’ of Rome but of a synoecism which resulted in

23 The exact extent to which similarity of material culture and ‘commercial’ ties implies uniform-

ity of social and political structure is, however, variously evaluated (cf., ¢.g., p. 187).
% But see p. 22. 41.

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16 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

Etruscan families settling permanently in Rome (as at Ardea or
Satricum), in Etruscan political and religious institutions being adopted
and in Etruscan art being welcomed for all its aesthetic beauty.

By contrast, so far the fourth and early third centuries have produced
little significant archaeological material, either inside Rome or outside. It
might be expected, for instance, that some of the Roman campaigns in
Samnium could be traced by forts and marching camps, but the discover-
ies so far are negligible (although evidence has accumulated of the
Samnites’ own hill-forts). Some evidence has emerged about the fate of
Etruscan cities captured by Rome (e.g. Falerii or Bolsena) but less than
might be expected. Various public buildings at Rome have been un-
covered, such as the great double temple of Fortuna and Mater Matuta at
Sant’ Omobono. However, in this phase, as indeed in the earlier period,
detailed, historical information comes mainly from the annalists (particu-
larly Livy), who viewed history from a different standpoint, and it is only
from the time of Pyrrhus that more abundant archaeological material,
together with more reliable historical accounts, provide a solid founda-
tion for a full history of Rome.

Il. THE CREATION OF EARLY ROMAN HISTORY
(a) The available data

To the Greek historian Timaeus in the third century early Rome already
represented a remote past and for most of the period covered by this
volume an interval of centuries separated even the first Roman historians
from the events they described. Historical reconstruction of events
before the later fourth century? relied on a slender repertoire of docu-
mentary and oral sources and even Livy (vt.1.1ff) concedes the defi-
ciency of authentic records, assigning as a principal cause the Gallic Sack
in 390 B.c. That is probably erroneous,”6 but a survey of the sources
potentially available to Fabius Pictor and his successors confirms the
essential fact: the surviving early documentation, at least before the mid-
fourth century, was sparse and inadequate.

The existence of early Etruscan historical accounts is speculative and
the use of Etruscan material by Roman sources seems in general to have
been late and occasional (p. 89). Even the Etruscan legends associated
with Mastarna and the Vibennae (p. 94f) found no place in the main-
stream Roman historical tradition, to which Mastarna as such remained

25 From that period on, more extensive and reliable archival and oral material, coupled with the
increasing interest of contemporary Greek historians, provided a more substantial basis for the
historians’ accounts (p. 311).

% Castagnoli 1974[E8$3], 425—7; below, p. 308.

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THE CREATION OF EARLY ROMAN HISTORY 17

largely or wholly unknown and the Vibennae merely the focus of
aetiological legend.

Greek authors from the late fifth century B.c. gave various accounts of
Rome’s foundation and a few events in the early history of the Western
Greeks were also relevant to Rome, but it will have been from the late
fourth century, as Roman history became increasingly entwined with
that of Campania, Samnium, South Italy and Sicily, that Greek material
will have become more plentiful; Pliny (HN 111.57) states firmly that
Theophrastus (c. 370-288/5 B.C.) was the first Greek to treat Rome in any
detail. Although we do not know what topics he covered, Greek interest
is likely to have focused particularly on contemporary external affairs,?’
but that in turn presumably prompted some interest in Rome’s earlier
internal and external history. According to Dionysius (Ant. Rom. 1.6.1)
the first to ‘run over’ the early period of Rome was Hieronymus of Cardia
in the late fourth—early third century B.c.,28 but the major contributor
here was undoubtedly Timaeus. He treated early Rome twice, in the
introduction to his history of the Western Greeks and in that to his
supplementary books covering the emergent rivalry of Rome and Car-
thage. The scope of these accounts, however, is problematic. Timaeus
certainly included the foundation of the city, explained (in the supple-
ment) at least one of its rituals thereby and, in a highly controversial
fragment,”? referred to a ‘monetary’ reform of Servius Tullius. His own
focus of interest may have led him to trace briefly Rome’s external
development, at least in the late fourth and early third centuries, and he
may well have outlined the growth of Roman political institutions in the
common Greek manner.» For most such material, however, he would
have been reliant ultimately on local traditions, presumably those sub-
sequently available to Roman historians, and although Fabius Pictor and
others probably knew and used his work, its ultimate basis would largely
coincide with theirs.

Few documentary sources can have survived from the regal period (cf.
Pp. 87) and even for the early Republic their significance was probably
limited. One possible major exception, however, is a consecutive list of
republican chief magistrates. These were the eponymous officials by
which each year was distinguished and lists of them were apparently kept
for chronological purposes since the term fasti, by which such records are
later known, refers in origin to the calendar proper. Such lists of

27 Frederiksen 1968[J 47], 226—7. Duris of Samos (¢. 340-+. 260 B.C.) apparently recorded Rome’s
victory over Etruscans, Gauls and Samnites at Sentinum in 295 (Jac. FGrH 76 P56); p. 379.

2% Cf. Hornblower 1981[B78], 140ff.

9 Jac. FGrH 566 r61; cf. De Martino 1977[H23], 51-3; below, p. 417.

% The allusion in Eratosthenes (Geog. 1c 24 Berger (= Strabo 1.4.9, p. 66c)) to the admirable
government of Carthage and Rome confirms early Greek interest in the form of the Roman state and
may well reflect some previous treatment of the topic.

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18 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

GIRINS CE Cs Cit BENET Gath QMS CNFEN eZ
ASML CREPE Bee ee iawn
FABIVS TMVGVRGES: TE GGENVEIVS EF. CREPSING:
POCARUNSMA FAV NDEN TATE TE Econ BON , eed

{ CEROCFABRUCIVS-CEC DAPVSLP O0dm
a N QchIMID NGL
\ RAREVR INS MEERUN a toe CORNELIVSPESEUN *AWEVENDA
FABIVS MF NIN — LICINY, CCLAVDIVS AE CNGCNINA Tl
ePIRIVS ESPN + CVRSORTT —SMCAKVILIVS CFONMAXIM- ii
DUAR TVS LEMINPRA ELESTINEMAGMENUCIRINS AY EMD ENTAT VS
SECNN: CLAVDW «EGENNCINGLF LN CLEPSINA

CIEPSINATI © ENCORNELIVSRFCNN BLASIO
SENS, EMER CE REN, ICTOR

~SAP-ELANDINSARE CHRUSVSINAAME
Siete 0 UIBO

Fig. 3. Fragment of the Capitoline Fasti recording the principal magistrates of the years 279~-
267. After Degrassi 1947 [D7], 40.

eponymous magistrates were frequently published alongside the calen-
dar from the first century, and their function as a chronological key
would clearly have made such a record desirable from the inception of
the Republic. If a list was kept from that date, however, it has not
survived; the sequence of magistrates has now to be reconstructed from
the surviving historians (above all Diodorus, Livy and Dionysius), from
inscribed lists of the late Republic and early Empire (particularly the so-
called Capitoline Fasti, a learned reconstruction published on the Arch of
Augustus in ¢. 30 or ¢. 17 B.c. (Fig. 3)), and from closely related late
imperial compilations. These lists, however, show a high level of uni-
formity, and this, together with indications of an original common order
of names even within colleges of up to six officials, suggests that all
derive ultimately from a single exemplar or at least acommon tradition.

Moreover, the surviving authorities do not indicate major
discrepancies or omissions in their sources on a scale to suggest that they
contained radically different consular lists or consequent major differ-
ences in their overall republican chronology.2? This is true even of the
Linen Books discovered by Licinius Macer (p. 7f). Within the period
from which our citations of the Books come (444-428 B.c.) only two
significant variants are attributed to them.*3 Under 444 B.c. the Books
apparently gave as an additional consular college the alleged censors of

3) Beloch 1926[A12], 4ff. Uncertainties surrounding the praenomina and cognomina of many
individual magistrates in the early part of the list do not weaken this conclusion, since it is the family
names which are significant here; indeed, the cognomina probably represent later reconstruction. See
further pp. 627ff. 32 See pp. 173ff.

33 Livy v.7.12 (cf. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. x1.62.1ff)=Licinius Macer fr. 13P; Livy
1v.23.1ff = Licinius Macer fr. 14P; Aclius Tubero fr. 6P. On the problem of the magistrates of 444
B.c. see further p. 174 n. 8.

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

THE CREATION OF EARLY ROMAN HISTORY 19

443, under 434 B.C. two consuls rather than three consular tribunes. In
neither instance can the truth be established definitively, but even if the
Linen Books were correct here, that need mean only that in these cases
they contained elements deriving from a comparatively early stage in the
transmission of the consular list, which was perhaps subsequently ma-
nipulated to enhance reconstruction of the consular tribunate and cen-
sorship. Moreover, although presumably Macer considered the Books of
some independent value in relation to his principal sources, the ancient
references do not prove that they were of great antiquity, and their
inclusion of L. Minucius Augurinus in an unknown capacity under the
years 440-439 B.C. (cf. p. 183) does not encourage confidence in their
reliability.

The hypothesis, therefore, of a common source to the surviving
consular lists remains unimpaired. Any estimate of that source’s an-
tiquity must depend on a systematic analysis of its intrinsic reliability but
if a case for its accuracy can be sustained (p. 173f), it is difficult to resist
the conclusion that it must derive from an early documentary record.
Even so, however, the evidence which it provided to the early historian
was limited. At most it offered some guidance on republican chronology,
the fortunes of aristocratic families, the form of the principal magistracy
and the admission of plebeians to office, but of itself it could not yield
even a skeleton outline of early republican history.

Some more specific evidence for external history might have been
derived from lists of triumphs. In the late Republic an inventory of
triumphal dedications appears to have been kept in the Capitoline temple
of Iuppiter¥* but the antiquity of this practice is unknown. Equally
uncertain are the basis and reliability of the principal surviving list, the
so-called Acta Capitolina Triumphalia or Fasti (Capitolini) Triumphales,
set up in parallel to the Fasti Capitolini on the Arch of Augustus (Fig.
4). The general accuracy of its data can be determined only in the context
of a detailed consideration of the traditions for Rome’s territorial and
military expansion, but a record which commences with the fiction of
Romulus’ triumph over the Caeninenses has clearly undergone at least
some re-working, as other manifest inventions and the genealogical
details also show. There can, therefore, be no a4 priori confidence in most
of its notices, at least before the third century,°5 and there is much
uncertainty as to the sources on which it ultimately depends for those
which are authentic. If, as is commonly assumed, it drew directly or
indirectly on the annual pontifical records (rather than a temple inven-
tory) for such material, the question becomes one further aspect of a
much wider and more fundamental issue of early republican history: the

* CIL 1, 78 (Henzen).
35 For a defence of their reliability from the fifth century cf. p. 280f.

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20 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

aOR

fa PRISCVSREX: DE'LA
ADIBROVINISDAMARS
PRISCVSREXI] DEETR
LAR ROMINI VSDAMARATIF °
PAISCVSRESUI DE-SABINELSIDIBSERT
SEREVLLIVS: REXDEETRVSCISVHDECACKKCH
SERTVLLIVSR EXUDE RVSCV IHS VNACKXCY
We os REX: 1 se
AW

Fig. 4. Fragment of the Acta Capitolina Triumphalia recording triumphs ascribed to Ancus
Marcius, Tarquinius Priscus and Servius Tullius. After Degrassi 1947 [D7], 64.

scope of the pontifical records and the date from which they were
authentically preserved.

That the pontifex maximus should have sought to keep a historical
record of the Roman state centuries before the development of literary
history at Rome is clearly implausible: presumably his primary interest
lay in recording events of immediate concern to the pontifical college
itself, perhaps on what was, in origin, principally a calendar, although
that need not have restricted his purview to events which would now be
classed as ‘religious’ (cf. p. 587). A slighting reference in the elder Cato
(Orig. fr. 77P (= Gell. NA 11.28.6)) indicates that the annual whiteboard
recorded eclipses and high corn prices, in contrast apparently to the
material of ‘true history’. This obviously cannot be taken to exhaust the
tablet’s contents (at least in Cato’s day) and other, admittedly vague
references suggest that a wide range of public events was covered.
However, that may be the result of a progressive increase in the tablet’s
scope, and the character and range of the material originally recorded
remain purely conjectural. All that can be said with confidence is that the
tablet can have given no details of episodes noted.

If in origin the whiteboard served principally the pontifical college
itself, preservation of its data may have been important from an early date
but such material certainly did not survive from (or at least was not used
for) the monarchy (p. 88) nor even necessarily the early Republic. In their
accounts of the fifth and early fourth centuries the extant historians
seldom include certain categories of occurrence (above all prodigies and
portents) which might reasonably be expected to have been noted by the

% See especially Cic. De Or. 11.52 (above, p. 6); Serv. Aen. 1.373.

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THE CREATION OF EARLY ROMAN HISTORY 21

priests, there are still in Livy’s account occasional years where nothing
memorable was recorded (e.g. Iv.30.4 (429 B.C.)), and even in antiquity
doubts were entertained about the reliability of material which allegedly
derived from records kept before the Gallic Sack. Although Cicero (Rep.
1.25) cites the pontifical record for an early eclipse, probably that of 21
June 400 B.c.,37 a certain ‘Clodius’ (possibly Claudius Quadrigarius)
denounced as forgeries the available genealogical records which pur-
ported to date from before the Sack. They were, he declared, the work of
individuals anxious to flatter those who claimed a spurious descent from
distinguished figures of the past38 and while he does not specify the
pontifical tablets, he might not have written so confidently if in his
view they had survived intact from that period. Livy (vi.1.2) too
presumably has them in mind when he more cautiously ascribes the
unreliability of early Roman history to the loss of most of the pontifical
records (commentarii) in 390. Even if the Sack was not in fact responsible
for the scantiness of genuine earlier documentation, the existence and
scope of such documentation from the fifth century were evidently
controversial. Whilst, therefore, the survival of a pontifical record from
that period cannot be excluded, it is too insecurely attested to justify
confident acceptance of the relevant annalistic traditions. Since in any
case it could have provided only rudimentary information, the scale of
the later elaboration by the historians themselves would make it difficult
to assign any individual item to this source with confidence, even
presuming (what is controversial) that the early historians used these
records to their fullest extent.3?

Equally problematic (as Livy’s evidence indicates) is the availability of
other priestly documents (alongside ritual hymns). Perhaps lists of
priests and accounts of priestly actions were kept from an early date, not
least as a source of procedural examples (cf. p. 577), but whether, as
Dionysius (Anat. Rom. viit.56.1) might suggest, they or other documents
(e.g., dedicatory inscriptions or, again, the pontifical tablets) were
regularly available to provide details even of such fundamental events as
temple dedications must be uncertain in view of the character of many
surviving traditions. Some early temple inscriptions survived but it is
not certain that dedicants were recorded on the building at Rome in this
period” and if they were, many were presumably erased in the course of
later reconstruction. A number of temple foundations were spuriously
attributed to the early monarchy and at a more general level the extant

% Skutsch 1974[B167]}, 78-9; 1985[B169], 311-13. 38 Plut. Nua. 1.

»® For a less sceptical account see above, p. 6f.

“ Dionysius’ statement (Ant. Rom. v.35.3) that M. Horatius Pulvillus ‘rv émeypagqy €AaBe’ in
the case of the Capitoline temple may mean only that he received the credit for the dedication (K.
Hanell in Les origines de la république romaine 1967[Ag98], 41).

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22 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

historical sources show little or no serious grasp of the introduction of
temple building (or of the major transformation in the public appearance
of Rome (p. 75f)) in the late seventh and early sixth centuries. Moreover,
they apparently omit shrines now revealed by archaeology, whereas none
of the temples they ascribe to the late sixth or early fifth centuries has
been conclusively located in this period by archaeological evidence,
except for that of Castor.4! Even the detailed literary evidence for the
date or circumstances of individual dedications is often contradictory,
anachronistic or otherwise unsatisfactory; the temple of Saturn, for
example, was apparently dated to the late fifth or early fourth century by
Cn. Gellius, to 501 or 498 B.c. by Varro and to 497 B.c. by Dionysius and
Livy.42 Nonetheless, the archaeological data do suggest that the histori-
ans are correct in implying a major phase of temple construction in the
sixth and early fifth centuries, followed by a comparative lull until the
late fourth century, and their assignation of particular shrines to this
period is not implausible. Conceivably the names of dedicants or the
dates of dedication alone were preserved in some form and the variant
traditions in the case of some shrines are due to rebuilding (frequent in
this period) or subsequent reworking of an authentic tradition. But in
other cases the apparent (or inferred) antiquity of these shrines may have
prompted their attribution to the monarchy or very early Republic. Even
in late republican Rome the physical heritage of the early period re-
mained a potent reminder of her past.

Other epigraphic evidence was sporadic (p. 13f) and appears not to
have been employed systematically by the historians. It is frequently
adduced almost as an extraneous element, suggesting that it has often
been incorporated into a narrative whose basic outline was already
established. The manner in which Livy draws on the antiquarian Cincius
for the regulations -governing the nail set every year in the wall of the
Capitoline temple in order to develop a schematic history of the ritual
(Livy vit.3.5ff) is typical. So is the incorporation of the alleged Latin
treaty of 493 B.c. in Dionysius (Ant. Rom. vi.95.1ff). Some such docu-
ments were in fact largely ignored, most notably the Twelve Tables; for
ancient writers war and politics were the spheres in which the individual

4! That one phase of the sanctuary of Mater Matuta or Fortuna in the Forum Boarium may fall
within the traditional but purely conventional chronology of its reputed founder, Servius Tullius (p.
76), offers no realistic basis for faith in the literary tradition. Similarly, although some sixth-century
antefixes have been plausibly assigned to the Capitoline temple (509 B.c.), there is no clear proof. For
the temple of Castor see I. Nielsen and J. Zahle, Acta Archaeologica $9 (1985) 1-29. The earliest phase
of the temple of Saturn is currently being investigated.

42 Cn. Gellius fr. 24P (= Macrob. Sat. 1.8.1); Varro ap. Macrob. Sat. 1.8.1 (cf. Dion. Hal. Ant.
Rom. v1.1.4); Livy 1.21.2; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v1.1.4; Macrob. Sat. 1.8.1.

43 Cf. also the signatures of two Greek artists on the early fifth-century temple of Ceres (Pliny HN
xxxv.154 (from Varro); Le Bonniec 1958[G 360], 25 7ff).

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THE CREATION OF EARLY ROMAN HISTORY 23

demonstrated his qualities and won renown and those in which the
historical development and achievements of the state were to be ob-
served; legal or social history in themselves were of little account.

The possible contribution of oral traditions (chiefly Roman but also
Latin and even perhaps Etruscan) to the formation of historical accounts
of Rome’s past has yet to be evaluated thoroughly, particularly on a
comparative basis. At Rome itself the existence of such traditions is most
readily traced in the early development of the foundation myth (cf. p. 56f).
It is also reflected in the information which percolated, albeit sometimes
in garbled form, to late fourth- and early third-century Greek sources.
Aristotle knew of a Lucius who had saved Rome after the Gallic Sack,
while Callimachus applied a Greek motif to the story of a Gaius wounded
in killing the enemy leader during an assault of the ‘Peucetii’ on Rome.
So also Timaeus’ accounts of the historical Rome, whatever their scope,
must have relied substantially on oral data (p. 89).

How reliable or extensive such data were is another matter. Much of
what relates to the earlier period and may derive from popular belief is
merely aetiological fiction (an abiding source of inspiration also in the
later historical and antiquarian authors). Certain epochal events, such as
the overthrow of the monarchy and the Gallic Sack, were presumably
recalled and progressively elaborated, and the continuing need to defend
the prerogatives of the plebeian officers may have fostered a lively oral
tradition on their origins, although one continuously reworked to suit
the contemporary situation. Some memory (also subject to constant
recasting) may also have been retained of personalities, historical or
legendary, and of episodes which were politically or morally edifying,
although the famous heroic ‘lays’ to which the elder Cato referred
contributed little to the historians, at least directly (p. 88). At a more
general level it is an attractive conjecture that in a traditional, predomi-
nantly oral society a broad consensus on the major phases or landmarks
of Rome’s internal and external development had become established
among the aristocracy*> but if so, this can have operated only in very
general terms; it will have been highly (and unpredictably) selective and
much will have been vague and malleable, subject to progressive reinter-
pretation and modification as the perspectives and needs of society
changed. Moreover, there is no reason to suppose that the earliest
historians would have refrained from altering or (especially)
supplementing such pre-existing traditions if (for whatever reason) that
appeared justified; and such revisions might well have imposed them-
selves on subsequent writers if they were sufficiently plausible, possessed
a convenient patriotic or moral character or proved otherwise attractive;

“ Aristotle ap. Plut. Cam. 22.4; Callim. Aft. rv fr. 107 Pfeiffer; cf. Fraser 1972[As2], 1.763-9.
4 Cornell 1986[B35], 82ff.

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24 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

there can, after all, seldom have been specific evidence to refute such
versions, even if they contained a generous quantity of invented material.

What is certain is the prevalence of family pretensions in early republi-
can history, including probably such famous episodes as the migration to
Rome of Att(i)us Clausus in 504 B.c. or the defeat of the Fabii by Veii at
the Cremera in 477 B.c. (apart from a few legendary clan founders with
regal connexions, such material is scarce under the monarchy (p. 89f)).
Authentic information of this type must be oral in origin. Portrait masks
of distinguished ancestors, perhaps with inscriptions recording their
deeds, adorned the halls of late republican aristocratic houses, but there is
no reliable evidence that any such had survived from the early Republic
and comparable funerary inscriptions are found only for men of the late
fourth century onwards (even then the most famous early example, the
funerary inscription of L. Cornelius Scipio Barbatus (cos. 298), is notori-
ously at variance with Livy’s account (p. 377)). The preservation of
funerary orations is not reliably attested before the third century and
other documents attributed to family records, such as the census records
of 393/2 B.c. cited by Dionysius (p. 14), are likely to be fiction. Roman
aristocratic families, as perhaps their Tarquinian counterparts, will
proudly have retailed their distinguished past, particularly in the military
sphere, and such memories or claims may lie behind the early republican
legends of Brutus, Coriolanus, Cincinnatus or Servilius Ahala (cf. Fig. 5);
but many apparently notable figures of the fourth century and earlier
remain shadowy in the surviving narratives, suggesting that detailed
family information was not available, or if it was, it was not used.
Moreover, such material as was known to be available was notoriously
suspect (Cic. Brut. 62; Livy viii.40.2ff), particularly that deriving from
later funeral eulogies (where the family past was lavishly paraded); and
whilst some authentic achievements may have been recalled, the discern-
ible family material in the historians more usually merits a healthy
scepticism, at least in its detail.

(b) Techniques of reconstruction

Even on the most optimistic assumptions the first historians of early
Rome faced a chronic shortage of reliable information: a few random
epigraphic texts and (perhaps) other documents, a quantity of popular
and family traditions (of highly uncertain reliability), perhaps some
Greek (and even Etruscan) literary material, a consular list and, from
some uncertain date, the notes of the pontifex maximus. They, as conceiv-
ably Timaeus before them, may have filled out the regal period with the

% Torelli 1973{B266], 96-7; Cornell 1978[Bz09], 173.

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THE CREATION OF EARLY ROMAN HISTORY 25

Fig. 5. Coin of M. Iunius Brutus (54 B.c.) depicting his reputed ancestors L. lunius Brutus
and C. Servilius Ahala, perhaps as a gesture of opposition to Pompey’s supposed autocratic
ambitions (RRC n. 433.2).

creation of several fundamental Roman institutions and they probably
established or reiterated much of the broad pattern of Rome’s develop-
ment, both internal and external, which thereafter becarhe accepted in the
historical tradition. Nonetheless, their narrative of Roman history before
the third century was inevitably restricted; according to Dionysius (At.
Rom. 1.6.2) they dealt with events between the foundation of Rome and
their own day ‘in summary fashion’.

It was from the late second or early first century that a more extensive
narrative was created. This will reflect the desire to produce a readable
and suitably informative history on the approved Hellenistic model and
to make history serve more adequately the ends of ethical instruction in
particular. History, it was felt, should not be a mere chronicle (a demand
already voiced by Sempronius Asellio (fr. 1P (= Gell. NA v.18.7ff)) in
the late second century); it should both improve and instruct the reader
and engage his emotions. The historian must explain the events re-
counted, especially in terms of human motivation; he must develop and
emphasise the moral aspect and provide a wealth of detail that would not
merely enhance the credibility of his narrative but also make it come alive
for the listener or reader.” To achieve that, however, it was necessary to
invent. However deplorable in theory, the absence of detailed sources
made historical reconstruction on a large scale both unavoidable and
possible.

The means employed for this purpose by the later annalists are most
evident in the surviving accounts of early republican political history

“7 Although many of these objectives are first clearly articulated in extant Latin literature by
Cicero, they were common coin in the Hellenistic period and the surviving fragments of early first-
century historians, together with the character of the surviving narratives, suggest that some or all of
them were already pursued in that period (cf. Badian 1966{B6}, 18-23; also 11-12 (Cn. Gellius));
indeed, individual episodes in the earliest historians may have been elaborated along lines popular
among Hellenistic historians (Walbank 1945[{B181], 12f, but cf. also J. Poucet, Historia 25 (1976)
200ff; G. P. Verbrugghe, Historia 30 (1981) 236ff).

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26 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

(where the major expansion may have occurred*8). Theories about the
nature of political conflict and its causes, moral preconceptions or
implicit assumptions about human character and behaviour provided
general guidelines, but for the reconstruction of individual events par-
ticular models might be sought, consciously or not. Greek parallels were
sometimes invoked for both historical and literary effect, as already in the
earliest historians (cf. p. 214), but the historian looked above all to later
Roman experience for colour, amplification and even entire episodes.
Thus the numerous early tribunician prosecutions before the centuriate
assembly appear to be a fictitious reconstruction from mid-republican
practice (p. 222) and the whole treatment of the agrarian agitation of the
early Republic, focusing on patrician occupation of public land, may be
modelled largely on the tensions that developed progressively over the
second century and the political conflicts to which they led (cf. p. 238).

Inevitably accounts of the distant past came to reflect the political
views of their authors. Dionysius, for example, embraces a tradition (or
traditions) openly hostile to Sulla, favourable or indulgent to Caesar and
bitterly antagonistic towards his murderer Brutus, whose alleged plebe-
ian forebears are constantly pilloried. The treatment of particularly
contentious episodes may also have been conditioned by their use as
precedents in contemporary political argument (cf. e.g. p. 183 n. 35).
Since early Roman history was apparently comparatively little re-
garded,‘° however, it cannot be assumed that it was chronicled purely for
propagandist purposes. Where historians drew on contemporary or
recent experience, that may merely reflect the search for plausible ex-
planatory detail, the provision of which Dionysius (with others) re-
garded as central to the historian’s task: it was recent history which
offered the best guide to the probable course of events.

Literary effect also became of increasing importance,°° conditioning
not only the organization, treatment and focus of the individual episode
but also the structural unity of the overall narrative. In particular, the
employment of certain recurrent themes offered one convenient ap-
proach by which a pattern of events might be created or at least
satisfactorily explained and both literary and historical coherence
achieved. The notion that internal disunity results from the absence of
external threat becomes in Livy especially a major thematic thread which
enables him to weld his disparate raw material into an integrated whole

48 Even then the political background to certain major events (e.g. the sudden and temporary
influx of plebeians inco the consular tribunate in the years 400-396 (p. 239)) remains inadequately
explored or developed.

49 Cic. Leg. 1.5ff Livy Praef. 4.

50 Anexplicit concern with literary style is already attested in the late second-century historian of
the Second Punic War, L. Coelius Antipater (fr. 1P).

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THE CREATION OF EARLY ROMAN HISTORY 27

(above all in Book 11). So too the spurious interpretation of the consular
tribunate as an office open to plebeians from the outset (cf. p. 193) became
the basis for a series of invented conflicts between patricians and plebe-
ians over the appointment of consular tribunes or (exclusively patrician)
consuls, intended to explain the irregular alternation of the two offices.

Although events may indeed on occasion have taken a broadly similar
course, such fictitious repetition of entire episodes is not infrequent in
the early narrative, albeit often with the individual variation of detail
which literary considerations demanded. The reasons for the duplication
may be various: genuine uncertainty, rival chronologies (p. 349), the
conflation of variants or simply the stereotyped repetition of a well-worn
theme. Livy’s battle narratives, for example, are a familiar instance of
carefully graduated variations on a restricted repertoire of stock situa-
tions and, as their frequent anachronisms confirm, can only be the
product of his or his predecessors’ imagination.

One particularly significant source of inspiration was again the claims
of noble families, such as the Fabii, Postumii and Licinii, to a distin-
guished role in the early Republic. Most notorious in this respect were
the Valerii. Even before Valerius Antias further adorned their past, they
seem to have secured recognition of their alleged services in the estab-
lishment of liberty, the promotion of political concord and the provision
of constitutional safeguards, especially through the actions of P. Valerius
Poplicola (cos. 509; 508; 507; 504 B.c.) and L. Valerius Potitus (cos. 449
B.C.). In the case of Poplicola this was further aided by a general tendency
to attribute fundamental institutions and popular rights to the first years
of the Republic and his career was extensively elaborated with a series of
popular innovations, above all a law of appeal against extreme magis-
terial penalties (duplicating that of 300 B.c.) and a measure inflicting
outlawry on those who sought monarchic power.

In notable contrast the Claudii are repeatedly disparaged. In the
surviving accounts of Ap. Claudius the Decemvir (p. 227) and of Ap.
Claudius Caecus (cos. 307; 296 B.c.: p. 395f) there are traces of a version
which saw them as demagogues in the pursuit of personal power. These,
however, have been largely overlaid by a portrait of the clan as arrogant,
self-assertive patricians, brutally unremitting in their hostility to the
plebs. The authorship of this tradition is unknown. The stereotyped
arguments and attitudes involved, together with Cicero’s apparent ig-
norance of it before 46 B.c., have suggested that it is largely the work of a
single, comparatively late annalist but neither consideration is conclu-
sive. What is more important is the light it sheds on annalistic procedures
and its implication that the overall character of the surviving accounts is
often a more significant consideration than the intrinsic credibility of
individual details.

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28 I. THE SOURCES FOR EARLY ROMAN HISTORY

The deficiencies of the sources available in antiquity for the reconstruc-
tion of early Roman history, together with the historians’ own lack of a
systematic critical approach, their freedom in recreating the past and
their accelerating attention to literary effect, render stringent criticism of
the extant narratives a prerequisite of any historical enquiry. Not only
does any assessment of their value depend on a scrutiny of their internal
consistency and inherent plausibility, their wider preoccupations, as-
sumptions and methods, their compatibility with other data, their poss-
ible anachronisms and (to the limited extent usually attainable) the
development of the individual traditions they embrace, but the severely
limited quantity and scope of the authentic material which could have
survived from early Rome make it imperative at least to demonstrate
how a particular datum might have been preserved before it can be
considered as potentially reliable. There can, for example, be no justifica-
tion for accepting details for which no means of preservation can be
plausibly conjectured whilst jettisoning other, more substantial elements
in the extant accounts.

As the fictitious early census figures (p. 136) and other data show,
Roman historians were aware that in the early days Rome was much
smaller and weaker (although even so they grossly overestimated her
population). It was not, after all, until the early third century that Rome
achieved firm control over Central Italy and her experiences in that
period and in the first two Punic wars hardly encouraged the belief that
her history had been one of remorselessly successful advance. Indeed, the
effects of one major calamity (the Gallic Sack) have been grossly exagger-
ated in surviving accounts even if patriotic sentiment (half-) suppressed
the actual capture of the city (cf. p. 307). Moreover, even if the annalists’
recreation of Rome’s early history often reflects a moralizing idealiza-
tion, it may on occasions come near to the truth simply through the
retrojection of factors which remained broadly unchanged, through the
attribution of characteristics typical of comparatively modest agrarian
communities or through plausible inference from surviving institutions
or from general probability. Even unexceptional material, therefore,
may be the historians’ own work; there is no known means by which the
detail could have been reliably transmitted and the frequent
discrepancies between individual versions themselves suggest (although
they do not prove) that it merely reflects the annalists’ attempts to
produce credible as well as readable history.

Inevitably even the proper and consistent employment of critical
principles leaves considerable scope for diverse evaluation both of the
literary tradition in general and of its individual data (as is exemplified by

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THE CREATION OF EARLY ROMAN HISTORY 29

the different approaches adopted in this volume). Of especial importance
in this respect are the doubts surrounding the availability and use of
records from the early Republic, above all the pontifical tablets. Given
that uncertainty, however, the possible existence of such records cannot
alone justify faith even in the general outline of early republican history
in Livy and Dionysius. Rather, the availability of such records must itself
depend to a considerable extent on the credibility of that outline as
determined by other criteria.

The primary focus of the modern historian must, therefore, be the
critical dissection of the literary tradition and, still more, those non-
literary sources of evidence which both serve as a touchstone of the
annalistic data and, in a number of areas, offer a more secure basis for
reconstruction. The most important of these sources are constitutional,
legal and religious institutions and practices which survived into a much
later period as self-evident fossils from the distant past; the consular list
(with some reservations); laws, formulae and other documents which are
preserved in classical writers and whose date and authenticity can be
credibly supported; modern philological investigation; the results of
archaeological excavation and survey; and (yet to be exploited fully)
comparative data from other societies. For many aspects of early Roman
history all such material is sparse and inadequate. The picture drawn
from it must inevitably be restricted, defective and, to varying degrees,
conjectural. In consequence, a detailed narrative of political or military
history can seldom be essayed at least before the later fourth century. The
principal concern must be those general trends and developments which
are of greater significance for an understanding of early Rome, even
where the absolute chronology of the relevant phases is uncertain.

The scope of such an enquiry is not, however, to be determined, and
therefore limited, by the preoccupations of the Roman annalists. Such
issues as the development of settlement at Rome and throughout Central
Italy, of demographic changes, of the emergence of the city-state, of its
economic and social structures, of its religious and legal institutions and
of its cultural life and influences were, to the ancient historian, at best of
subsidiary interest. Modern research may regard them as both more
central and more fruitful, for, though often deficient, the information
available on such topics from non-annalistic sources frequently makes
possible the framing of relevant questions and even the formulation of
reasonable hypotheses. Above all, the history of Rome has to be under-
stood in the context of the development of Central Italy as a whole, a
subject no less important in its own right and one increasingly illumi-
nated by archaeological discovery. The history of the period covered by
this volume is as much the history of the peoples of Italy whom Rome
brought under her hegemony as it is that of Rome herself.

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

CHAPTER 2

ARCHAIC ROME BETWEEN LATIUM AND
ETRURIA

M. TORELLI

I. INTRODUCTION

Rome’s geographical position makes her earliest history a very special
and exemplary instance of ‘frontier history’: situated on the first ford and
easiest landing-place on a large river, the Tiber, which itself formed the
natural boundary between ethnic groups differing from one another in
language and in their level of social and economic development (the
Etruscans, Faliscans, Latins, Sabines and Umbrians), the settlement of
Rome was able to benefit from exceptionally easy communications, both
with the hinterland and in the direction of the sea, to an extent virtually
unequalled in the whole peninsula. The historical traditions concerning
the asylum of Romulus, the Latin-Sabine union and the emergence of the
Etruscan monarchy (pp. 57f; 91f), whose first representative was said to
have had Greek ancestry, are themselves excellent evidence for the
effects of this open situation, which influenced the economy, society and
culture of the emerging city.

All this has been stressed repeatedly in modern historical research but
itis worth noting again here in the specific context of an assessment of the
evidence contributed by the archaeological data. As has already been
noted (p. 15), this is in fact as scarce for Rome, with her history of
successive building over a period of nearly three thousand years, as it is
relatively abundant in the neighbouring cities and areas of Etruria and
Latium, where it constitutes a valuable tool for reconstructing the phases
of social and cultural development between the end of the Bronze Age
and the beginning of the Republic. However, sucha procedure! requires
that particular caution which is integral to the very process of
historical reconstruction from archaeological evidence; for, as A.
Momigliano has pointed out in connexion with E. Gjerstad’s monuinen-
tal work,? such evidence does not always automatically reflect social
structures, ethico-political forms or their various modifications. More-
over, still greater caution is needed in the specific approach which it is

' Torelli 1974-3[G148], 3-78; 1981[Jr2a].
2 Momigliano 1963[A83], 101-8 (=id. Terzo Contributo 558-71).

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ARCHAEOLOGY, URBAN DEVELOPMENT AND SOCIAL HISTORY
31

intended to adopt here because, at least in theory, the archaeological
sequences of one area are not necessarily identical with those of another,
even of one very close at hand, in terms either of the actual material or of
its implications. Nonetheless, the contacts between southern Etruria
(particularly Veii) on the one hand and the settlements of Latium Vetus
(particularly Rome) on the other do in practice justify such a comparison,
although here this will be strictly limited to major sequences and data and
will ignore casual points of similarity and isolated phenomena. Further-
more, as we shall see, an independent analysis of the archaeological data
tends to confirm the picture which emerges from a non-reductive in-
terpretation of the literary tradition, of the kind to be found in Chapter 3.

Il ARCHAEOLOGY, URBAN DEVELOPMENT AND SOCIAL
HISTORY

The first and most important results of a parallel study of the archaeol-
ogical data from southern Etruria and Latium concern not only the
typology but the continuity or discontinuity of human settlement over
the very long period which separates the Bronze Age from the sixth
century B.c.> The Final Bronze Age in its Sub-Appennine form, which
can be assigned in general terms to the eleventh century B.c., is only
sporadically attested in Latium and, with the single exception of Ardea,
makes no appearance in any of the later Iron Age centres. In contrast,
Etruscan territory frequently yields evidence of this same Sub-
Appennine culture in conjunction with the later Proto-Villanovan cul-
ture, which also belongs to the Final Bronze Age; this is the case, for
example, with the settlements of the Tolfa hills. Conversely, while in
Latin territory the First Latial Period, parallel in chronology and cultural
character to the Proto-Villanovan,* appears frequently in a continuous
sequence with materials belonging to all or some of the later periods in
Etruria, with the odd rare exception (for instance a Proto-Villanovan
tomb in the very centre of the large Villanovan necropolis of Casale del
Fosso at Veii),> there is a widely accepted sharp discontinuity between
Proto-Villanovan and Villanovan: Proto-Villanovan settlements, often
situated not far from Villanovan, vanish with the appearance of the latter
at the start of the Iron Age.® It is quite clear that in this context the
difference between the Etruscan and Latin environments is not without
relevance to the mythical-historical traditions which record the origins
and remoter history of the two peoples.

3 The principal cultural phases of this period, with approximate dates, are tabulated on p. 64.
4 R. Peroni in Ciilta del Lazio primitive 1976(B306}, 19-25.
5 Vianello Cordova 1967[B418}, 295-306. 6 Colonna 1977(B313}, 189-96.

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

8007 ‘ssezg AissoaTuE a8prquiey © oUTTUD sooIstE eSspyquie;

8007 ‘ssezg AtssoaTUE eSprquiey © SUTTUD sooIstE] eSspuqures;

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Bas OO0'L ~ GO pe
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34 2. ARCHAIC ROME BETWEEN LATIUM AND ETRURIA

The burials and settlements of the First and Second Latial Periods,
between the tenth and the middle of the ninth centuries B.c., do not differ
from those of the same period in Etruria, particularly southern Etruria,
being smallish in size and not at all close-packed. Admittedly, the
communities which they reveal sometimes turn out to have been fairly
close together, as in the Alban Hills or at Rome (where traces of
settlements occur near the Arch of Augustus and on the Palatine), and,
lying only a few hundred metres apart, indicate economic and social
formations based on kinship structures. If the production of utilitarian
and ritual pottery undoubtedly took place within the domestic sphere,
metallurgy seems to have been organized ona regional scale and thus not
to have been centred on the family nucleus.? Though this did not affect
social structure directly, it nonetheless suggests a rapid economic
growth, with the mass production of work tools and weapons.

On the ideological level, synchronic and diachronic differences in
funerary ritual offer additional material for profitable speculation on
possible social structures.’ Throughout the ninth century B.c. such ritual
appears coherent and consistent in southern Etruria and Latium, with
the universal custom of cremation in biconical funerary urns in southern
Etruria and in simple urns, sometimes hut urns, in Latium, accompanied
by a funerary deposit comprising a small number of miniaturized objects
(including panoplies of armour and weapons in Latium). In the second
half of the ninth century B.c., however, the miniaturization of the
funerary material was apparently superseded by the practice of placing
objects of normal size in the tomb, while the ritual of cremation was
gradually replaced by that of inhumation. The latter was virtually general
by the middle of the eighth century B.c. and the only exceptions are some
male burials in hut urns in Latium and in biconical funerary urns in
southern Etruria (more rarely hut urns): in both regions the custom
seems to have persisted fora long time, even if sporadically, throughout
the orientalizing period? as is demonstrated by the very recent discovery
of the princely tomb of Monte Michele at Veii!® or the well-known case
of the Regolini-Galassi tomb at Caere, which is again a princely burial.!!
The retention for particular members of society of the archaic crematory
ritual with a tomb which had heroic overtones served to stress the
eminence and prestige of the head of a specific lineage. The similarity of
such tombs to the heroic tombs of Eretria has been noted by several
scholars, and is an indication not only of the Hellenization — though ina
very individual sense — of Etruscan and Latin funerary customs, but also
of the importance which particular family groups had gradually assumed
within society from the middle of the eighth century onwards, thus

7 La formazione della citta nel Lazio 1980[127]. 8 Colonna 1974[B311], 286-92.
9 Bietti Sestieri 1979[Bz95], 24-9. '° Boitani 1982[Bz99], 95-103. 1! Pareti 1947[B374].

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destroying the original economic and social homogeneity which is
reflected by the cemeteries of the previous phase.

The emergence of the Etruscan and Latin aristocracies between the
eighth and seventh centuries B.c. finds its exact counterpart in the
growth in size of some of the settlements in both areas. Lesser
settlements were absorbed by larger neighbours, others disappeared to
the obvious benefit of stronger and more powerful communities, while
sites which had clearly been relatively more extensive from the early Iron
Age onwards now grew out of all proportion. Modern interpretations of
this phenomenon in terms either of synoecism or of nuclear expansion
appear, in this rigidly polarized form, not to comprehend the true import
of what was undoubtedly an extremely complex process. Recent research
on various sites in Etruria and Latium, from Veii to Falerii, Tarquinii
and Lavinium, has shown that the phenomenon was frequently the result
of both tendencies, active over a period of time which is often of very
long duration, running from the ninth to the sixth century B.c.:!2 some
towns grew by the concentration within a single settlement of several
villages scattered over quite a wide area, others developed by leaving
outside their perimeter whole sections of the built-up area as ‘dead
zones’. Synoecism and nuclear expansion are not therefore contradictory
phenomena, but form part of a single drive towards concentrating the
population, and this was no doubt set in motion by the economic and
social developments which were dominated by the emergence of the
aristocracies of southern Etruria and Latium.

Along with this expansion in settlements came the definitive establish-
ment of the hoplite phalanx in the last years of the seventh century B.c.
(reliably confirmed from archaeological material found in tombs, but
above all from painted or relief representations of the phalanx itself (Fig.
6)) and the monumental organization of the sacred and public areas of the
city during the same period. The first phenomenon, the diffusion over
the whole area of Etruria and Latium of the technique of hoplite warfare,
has implications both on the social level and in the sphere of urban
organization. The need for closer co-operation (for increasingly pressing
military reasons) appears both to foster and to hinder the gradual
consolidation of the power of the aristocracies: in both Etruscan and
Latin representations the hoplite phalanx appears consistently to be led
and guided by heroic figures on chariots, who are quite clearly the
dominant heads of the aristocratic clans.!3 These aristocratic groups had
therefore to adapt their own social and economic system of clients and
dependants to the new techniques of hoplite combat, broadening their
own social base with some difficulty and supplying its members with the

12 Torelli 1982[Bqr3], 117-28. 3 Torelli 1981[J1z2z), 128-30.

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36 2. ARCHAIC ROME BETWEEN LATIUM AND ETRURIA

rervaey ory Cv @

SKA VAYAYAYRYAYRYAYAY

—

Rao we

PAYA YR YAYAYAYAYAY AY)

Fig. 6. Hoplite column depicted with cavalryman and war-chariot on ostrich egg from Vulci
(late seventh century). From P. Ducati, Storia del/Parte etrusca (Rome—Milan, 1927), pl. 74.222.

means of acquiring heavy bronze armour. Furthermore, the joint re-
quirements for defence, which often went far beyond the invariably
limited force fielded by the aristocratic groups, offered increasingly
greater opportunities to social classes not restricted by the links of
dependence imposed by the aristocracies. In archaeological terms a
particularly telling example of this entry into the citizen hoplite phalanx
of individuals who did not form part of the dominant aristocratic
structure, is furnished by the Tomb of the Warrior at Vulci, a ‘chamber’
tomb a cassone (a typical individual tomb, that is, not a family one) of 530
B.C., with its complete hoplite armour and a rich set of Attic pottery."
The final confirmation of this process must undoubtedly be seen in the
centuriate organization of Servius Tullius’ c/assis, traditionally assigned
to the middle years of the sixth century B.c. (p. 92; 103).

This new military reality, with its economic and social implications,
which we see under way from the last thirty years of the seventh century
B.C., naturally finds expression in an increasingly complex and effective
system of urban defence. Though there are insufficient examples of
urban excavation in Etruria, except at Rusellae in the north, we now have
numerous cases of settlements in Latium — such as those at Lavinium,
Castel di Decima and Ficana (Map 2: p. 244) — where the presence of
primitive defence structures!5 from the eighth and seventh centuries has
been revealed. These structures comprise banks (aggeres) of earth and tufo
chips and their memory may possibly have survived at Rome in the ‘earth
wall of the Carinae’ (wurus terreus Carinarum: Vatto, Ling. v.48; 143).
They normally rest against, or are replaced by, a real wall consisting of

1% Dohrn 1964[B320], 491-2.

18 C.F. Giuliani in Enea nel Lazio 1981(E25}, 162-6 (Lavinium); Guaitoli 1981(B339], 117-50
(Castel di Decima); T. Fischer-Hansen in Ficana. Catalogo della Mostra 1981(B325}, 59-65 (Ficana).

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

blocks of stone, usually built during the first half of the sixth century B.C.
(this is the date traditionally given to the building of the walls of Servius
Tullius) and equipped with gates and defensive devices consonant with
the siege techniques generally employed in this period throughout the
area of Greece and Magna Graecia.

If aggeres and walls represent the response, as far as urban organization
was concerned, to the changed conditions of warfare and its techniques,
itis significant that during the same period, between the penultimate and
last quarter of the seventh century B.c., we see the first signs of religious
ideology emerging. Up to this point archaeological traces of cult, other
than specifically funerary cult, have been practically non-existent: hith-
erto the sacral dimension, whether in a family or collective context, has
not in fact appeared in forms distinct from those of everyday life. Now,
between 630 and 600 B.c., the framework of political and religious life is
created at Rome around the Forum (p. 75): the second and more complex
paving of the area (625 B.c.), the construction, on the site of former huts,
of the royal shrine-dwelling of the Regia (630 B.c.), the building of the
Comitium (assembly area) and the Curia Hostilia (senate-house) (600
B.C.), the first tangible evidence, in the shape of material taken from a
well, of the cult of Vesta (600 B.c.).!6 The phenomenon is echoed closely
elsewhere in Latium, at Satricum!” and at Gabii,!® but above all in
Etruria,!9 at Veii in the so-called ‘sanctuary of Apollo’ (in fact dedicated
to Minerva) and at Rusellae with its unusual building of sun-dried brick
discovered under the forum area of the Roman period.

The production and circulation of luxury goods, Hellenic in form and
origin, which from the middle of the eighth century had been the
exclusive prerogative of the emerging aristocracy, in whose tombs they
were offered in remarkable quantities, now find a new focus of accumula-
tion in the votive deposits of sanctuaries. And it is no coincidence that
gradually, from this moment onwards, tombs prove increasingly bare of
prestige objects both at Rome and also at nearby Veil. Status tends rather
to find expression, not in the accumulation and exhibition of luxury
objects, but in the particular attention paid to burial rites or in the
deliberately austere grave apparatus, as with the marble urn from the
Esquiline or the tomb of the horseman-athlete of Lanuvium.” At the
same time this phenomenon reveals the diffusion, particularly in the
Latin area (though not in Etruria), of customs which tended to restrict
funerary luxury, unless one chooses rather to interpret it as the result of a
different pattern of wealth circulation in which shrines and collective
buildings occupy a central position.

16M. Torelli in Roma arcaica ¢ le recenti scoperte archeologiche 1980[ A113], 13~1$.

' Satricum ~ una citta latina 1982[B4os], esp. 53-4. 18 Zaccagni 1978[B423], 42-6.
'9 Torelli 1981{J122], 164-74. ® Colonna 1977[B312], 131-65; below, Figs. 35 and 39.

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38 2. ARCHAIC ROME BETWEEN LATIUM AND ETRURIA

In this way, through archaeology, we can trace a long process of
economic and social development which, in Latium and Etruria, moves
from village-based structures in the final phase of the Bronze Age to the
definite establishment of urban forms in the crucial last years of the
seventh century B.c., with the parallel establishment of a dominant
aristocratic class. Furthermore, the hard core of certain facts which can
be recovered from a critical perusal of the data recorded in the literary
tradition is considerably reinforced by the organic sequence of archaeo-
logical data on the two banks of the lower reaches of the Tiber. In Latium
between the tenth and the middle of the ninth centuries B.c. the Alban
Hills occupy a position of great importance, thanks to the quality and
quantity of the evidence which they offer; the society is defined as a
village society, characterized by an extremely small number of settle-
ments, probably linked among themselves by ties of kinship, with a
social division of labour shared out according to sex and age groups, and
a strictly subsistence economy, in which the production of poor quality
cereals and some vegetables seems to have predominated. But the most
valuable evidence is afforded by the stability of the settlements, com-
pared with the relative impermanence and fluctuations of the Bronze
Age; this stability is inseparable from the family ownership of what was,
in the ancient world, the means of production par excellence, land. This
form of ownership, which probably existed side by side with collective
possessions of tribal origin, seems to have been the lynch-pin of later
developments and a main source of that element of contradiction of
which signs may already be visible in the ‘crisis’ in funerary ideology that
can be observed in the course of the ninth century B.c.

Beginning in the second half of the ninth century B.c. and lasting until
halfway through the following century, these signs of ‘crisis’ become
increasingly pronounced, with a visible impoverishment of the hill
centres of the Alban Hills, where the tombs diminish in quantity and
richness, and a parallel blossoming of settlements on the plains, such as
Rome, Lavinium, Ficana, Gabii. There are similar developments in the
Etruscan area, where again the abandonment of the Proto-Villanovan
hill centres and the sudden appearance of Villanovan settlements on
modest heights surrounded by wide fertile plains implies the importance
of the ownership and working of the land. For the Villanovan culture
one may conjecture a genuine and positive colonizing movement, start-
ing in the course of the ninth century B.c.; and in Latium likewise the
appearance of new centres with similar characteristics, from the Quirinal
in Rome to Castel di Decima, Laurentina and perhaps Tivoli, makes it
possible to speak of parallel impulses towards colonization, an indication
that the search for better land and more profitable agricultural produc-
tion played a vital role in the development of the forces of production.

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SANCTUARIES AND PALACES 39

And that a process of this kind could not occur peacefully is demon-
strated by the progressive changes in military techniques, defensive
structures and the size of settlements.

The most obvious social change is that which occurs in the middle of
the eighth century B.c. and becomes fully established in the course of the
seventh century. A rudimentary social stratification emerges and takes
root, the outcome of the developments of the previous periods which
had witnessed a complex interaction of such factors as the appropriation
of the means of production (whose implicit and profound inequality of
output should be stressed), the strong tendency to conflict between
separate communities, and within the individual communities the need
to integrate groups of varying origins. Without doubt it is at this point
that we should see the emergence of relations of production based on
client dependence, the pivot of aristocratic economic power: the enor-
mous growth of some settlements (this is the time at which, in Rome, the
necropolis is moved to the Esquiline) and the ‘disappearance’ of many
others in this and the following century prove that the very conquest of
further territory and the subjection of all or part of the settlements there
(an event symbolized by the royal conquests of Tullus Hostilius and
Ancus Marcius) brought into play a mechanism for the accumulation of
riches in the hands of an aristocratic class, an accumulation encouraged
by improvements in cultivated crops and in technology, both agri-
cultural and non-agricultural, and by the increasingly marked division of
labour, factors once again revealed to us by archaeology. Nor should it
be forgotten that the entrenchment of the aristocracies found basic
support in the acquisition not only of objects imported from the East and
from Greece, but also of cultural models, originating in the same areas,
such as the symposium and the ceremonial ritual governing the display of
wealth; and the acquisition of these in its turn generated greater local
demand and for that very reason brought about the consolidation of
specialized craft activities, which served as a further basis for more
complex social stratification.

The conclusion of this economic and social process is therefore the
‘birth’ of the city as an organism with tangible monumental evidence,
walls, sacred and communal buildings, and permanent and enduring
dwellings which, from the last decades of the seventh century B.c., come
to constitute the first real urban landscape in the history of Latium and
Etruria.

Ill. SANCTUARIES AND PALACES

One of the most obvious and important signs of the economic and social
development of the seventh century B.c. is the creation of dwelling

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40 2. ARCHAIC ROME BETWEEN LATIUM AND ETRURIA

structures in material which is notentirely perishable.?! At the beginning
of the seventh century, as the well-known case of hut vr at Satricum
shows, the dwelling unit is still a hut of the type which had developed in
the early Iron Age. About half-way through the century, however, both
the great Caeretan aristocratic tombs of the Painted Lion type, and the
appearance of clay tiles and of dwelling structures with stone founda-
tions, articulated on complex bipartite or tripartite plans, attest a funda-
mental change in the lifestyle of the ruling classes.

The discoveries at the settlement of Acquarossa near Viterbo, with
houses on a rectangular plan embracing several rooms and a courtyard22
and decorated with painted architectural terracottas of the mid-seventh
century B.C., and the excavation of the great palace building of Murlo
near Siena,?3 which was originally built at the same time and then rebuilt
at the beginning of the next century, have completely redefined our
perspectives for the interpretation of monumental archaeological data of
the seventh to sixth centuries B.c. While earlier evidence seemed to
indicate that architectural terracottas were a feature of temples alone, the
new data reveal that until the end of the sixth century B.c. these decorated
clay revetments could be applied both to sacred edifices and to publicand
private structures. It should, however, be emphasized that for this phase
the distinction between private, public and sacred is anything but precise
or workable, as the evidence from Murlo makes all too clear.

In its definitive version the palace of Murlo is an almost square
structure, its sides some 60 m. long (Fig. 7). It is arranged around a huge
central courtyard with wooden columns on three sides and with four
identical corner rooms, and bears close comparison to eastern palace
buildings such as the Cypriot palace of Vouni or the palace of the tyrannos
of Larissa on the Hermos. The four wings of the building around the
courtyard were planned with varying internal divisions; on the north-
east and south-east sides long rooms may have functioned as service
areas, ranging from storerooms to stables and servants’ quarters, while
the banquet hall and women’s quarters were probably situated on the
south-west side. The north-west side, divided exactly into three parts,
open at the centre (in obvious relationship to the sablinum of Roman
tradition) and without a colonnade, frames a small oikos which is dis-
placed towards the centre of the courtyard and is to be identified as the
building used for the family cult. The terracotta decoration is a true
synthesis of aristocratic ideology: images of ancestors are proudly dis-
played on the roof beams, amid a mythical bestiary of gryphons and
gorgons; on the side porticoes, friezes on terracotta plaques with scenes
of games, a wedding celebration, a banquet and a group of chthonic and

21 Torelli 1983[Jiz5], 471. 2 Ostenberg 1975[B368].
2 Nielsen and Phillips 1976{B367], 113-47.

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SANCTUARIES AND PALACES 41

ola eee
- aE LES

0 10 20 30 40 50 60m

Fig. 7. Plan of early sixth-century ‘palace’ building at Murlo (Poggio Civitate). From Nielsen
and Phillips 1976 [B367], fig. 1.

heavenly divinities (Fig. 8a—c) hint at the ceremonial use of the courtyard
and the rooms opening off it, and give perfect expression to the
aristocratic owners’ desire to make the building the political and ideo-
logical centre of the world.

In the palace of Acquarossa (Fig. 9), dating from the third quarter of
the sixth century 8.c. but likewise preceded by a building of the mid-
seventh century, we can make out a central courtyard with only two
colonnaded sides (Fig. 10);24 the east side houses the banquet hall and
possibly the women’s quarters, while the north side is a tripartite space

% Ostenberg 1975{B368], 15-26.

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42 2. ARCHAIC ROME BETWEEN LATIUM AND ETRURIA

Fig. 8a. Reconstruction of (wedding) procession frieze from Murlo ‘palace’ (early sixth
century). From T.N. Gantz, MDAI(R) 81 (1974), fig. 1.

ASN > FZ

Fig. 8b. Reconstruction of banquet frieze from Murlo ‘palace’ (early sixth century). From J. P.
Small, Stud. Etr. 39 (1971), 28 Fig. 1.

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SANCTUARIES AND PALACES 43

{ (% “|
on ING
CLS SSISISS SSL LS SSSI SLD

Fig. 8c. Reconstruction of seated divinities frieze from Murlo ‘palace’ (early sixth century).
From T.N. Gantz, Stud. Etr. 39 (1971), 5 fig. 1.

Fig. 9. Plan of ‘palace’ building at Acquarossa: phase 111 (¢. 550-525 B.c.). From Ostenberg
1975 [B368], 140.

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44 2. ARCHAIC ROME BETWEEN LATIUM AND ETRURIA

Fig. 10. Reconstruction of ‘palace’ building at Acquarossa: phase ut (¢. 550-525 B.C.). From
Ostenberg 1975 [B368], 164.

with a large sacrificial hearth (eschara) in front of it, in a position not
dissimilar from that of the oikos at Murlo and thus intended for the cult of
the ancestors. The scenes depicted in the architectural decoration pro-
claim the change that has taken place in the half century that has passed
since the principal phase at Murlo:a frieze witha banquetand revel (Aomos)
alludes to the use of one side of the building for symposia (games,
wedding ceremonies, and divine assemblies have disappeared), while
plaques showing hoplites along with Heracles and the Nemean lion or
Cretan bull (Fig. 11) indicate the heroic, but no longer divine, nature of
the family cult. Significantly, as at Larissa, the palace is on an axis with a
sacellum (shrine), though this is outside the palace building and quite
separate from it. The autonomy of the religious sphere therefore pro-
ceeds pari passu with that of the political and social sphere: at Murlo the
palace is at the centre of the social structure and contains within it the
whole religious world, while at Acquarossa this sacred world is detached
from it, leaving the palace with merely a heroic dimension and the
ceremonial formalities of the banquet.

These discoveries make possible an entirely fresh evaluation of the
Roman evidence — not only the decoration of the Regia and the Curia
Hostilia, both adorned with architectural terracottas which are taken
from the same mould and represent the Minotaur (Fig. 12), possibly an

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SANCTUARIES AND PALACES 45

Fig. 11. Reconstruction of architectural terracotta frieze from Acquarossa ‘palace’ depicting
hoplites, Heracles and the Cretan bull, and chariot (¢. 550-525 B.c.). From Ostenberg 1975
[B368], 182.

Fig. 12. ‘Minotaur’ architectural terracotta frieze plaque from the temple of Caesar in the
Roman Forum (ultimately probably from the Regia). First quarter of the sixth century.

archetypal image of the ‘city’, but even the actual plan of the Regia (Fig.
13a—d) which repeats the basic lines of the type of palace exemplified at
Acquarossa and Murlo. No less significant for the identification of the
form of social organization dominant in Latin society is the presence of a
structure of the palace type, though of smaller proportions, at Ficana,
while some very recent discoveries at Satricum25 seem to point to the

28 Pavolini and Rathje 1981[B376], 75-87; G. I. W. Dragt in Satricum — una citta latina 1982 {B4os],
41-2.

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46 2. ARCHAIC ROME BETWEEN LATIUM AND ETRURIA

a. The Regia in the late seventh century

b. The Regia ¢. 580
Fig. 13a—d. Phases of the Regia in the archaic period: after Brown 1974-5 [E79], figs. 10. 12. rgand 4.

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SANCTUARIES AND PALACES

d. The Regia ¢. 510-500

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48 2. ARCHAIC ROME BETWEEN LATIUM AND ETRURIA

existence of a similar building in this other great Latin city. At the end of
the sixth century, however, with the political movement towards institu-
tions of a republican type, the Regia, now the seat of a rex reduced toa
purely religious function, was to present — in a kind of frozen state — the
typical form of the palace-shrine of the previous period, just as at Caere
the shrine of Montetosto — in all probability a sacred place dedicated to
the rite of enagismos, that is, the rendering of offerings to the shades of
Phocaean prisoners impiously put to death after the battle of Alalia in
¢. §40 (Hdt. 1.167) — was to repeat yet again the plan of the palace
building, perhaps to emphasize the expiation of a ‘religious crime’
perpetrated by some local ruler in accordance with the Homeric (and
aristocratic Etruscan) model for the sacrifice of such prisoners.26

IV. EMPORIA AND SHRINES AT EMPORIA

The emergence of urban structures which take on monumental forms
also marks an important change in the processes of trade. Since very
ancient times the Etruscan and Latin world had been in contact with the
eastern Mediterranean and with the protagonists of maritime trade, the
Phoenicians and the Greeks.?” Materials from the East appear in tombs
and archaeological contexts of the Etrusco-Latin coastal area from the
early eighth century B.c.: from this period onwards Phoenicians and
Greeks brought luxury goods with ever increasing frequency to the
shores of Etruria, where they were destined to satisfy the similarly
increasing needs of the emergent aristocracies. The Tiber, with its
landing-places on both the Veientan and the Roman banks, was perhaps
one of the earliest settings for the development of these contacts, attested
by Euboean-Cycladic pottery found in tombs at Veii and in urban
contexts at Rome. Until the late seventh century B.c. trade seems to have
been controlléd by the emergent classes, to judge by the presence of
oriental objects, or imitations of them, in aristocratic tombs. But from
that date onwards we find emporium shrines appearing near the landing-
places, where exchanges between Greek, Etruscan and Latin merchants
took place under the apparent control of deities brought in from Greece
or the East, even though these were soon assimilated to local divinities.

The fullest and clearest picture is that furnished by Gravisca,?8 the port
of Tarquinii, where an emporium shrine was established around 590-5 80
B.c. to Aphrodite-Turan: to this the cults of Hera-Uni and Demeter-Vei
were soon added, under the growing influence of the trade with Samos
and also to some extent as a result of the social pressure produced by the
massive influx into the port of agents of the great emporia of Ionia and,

% Torelli 1981{J124), 1-7. 27 Torelli 1981[J123}, 67-82. 4% Torelli 1977[Gs00], 398-458.

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EMPORIA AND SHRINES 49

VW Pray

fa,

Fig. 14. Reconstruction of terracotta frieze plaque from the second phase of the Sant’
Omobono temple (c. 530 8.c.?). From Sommella Mura 1977 [E135], fig. 7.

from the late sixth century B.c. onwards, of Aegina; at Gravisca we have
evidence of the votive gift of an anchor given by the man whom
Herodotus (I1v.152z) considered ‘the most fortunate of the merchants
known to him’, Sostratus son of Laodamas of Aegina (see CAH tv, Fig.
39).

Cults like those of Gravisca are known or can be surmised throughout
the whole coastal area of western central Italy. A grandiose temple of the
late sixth century at Pyrgi, the port of Caere, has revealed the name of a
local tyrannos, Thefarie Velianas, the author of an inscribed bilingual
dedication in Etruscan and Phoenician, set up to commemorate the help
received in his ascent to power from the goddess Ishtar, assimilated to
the Etruscan Uni. This dedication and the grandiose character of the
temple buildings at Pyrgi, colossal in comparison with the far more
modest fabric of the emporium at Gravisca, reveal clearly the importance
which the emporia and the classes directly connected to them assumed in
this Etruscan metropolis.29

At Rome, the oriental Aphrodite brought by the merchants was
installed at the gates of the city at the edge of the Portus Tiberinus and
took on the name of Fortuna, modelled on that of the Greek Moirai, of
whom Aphrodite Urania was the presbytate, the eldest (Paus. 1.19.2). Her
temple has been identified with that of the sacred area of Sant? Omobono

2 Die Gottin von Pyrgi 1981[G3 38); Verzar 1980[G 307), 35~86. For a different dating of Thefarie
Velianas see below, p. 256.

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jo z. ARCHAIC ROME BETWEEN LATIUM AND ETRURIA

and, like the numerous other sanctuaries of Fortuna once scattered
throughout the surburbanarea of the archaic city, it was closely linked by
tradition with the ‘tyrannical’ figure of Servius Tullius. Its Etruscan and
Latin inscriptions, rich votive offerings from the beginning of the sixth
century B.c. and sumptuous decoration are evidence of the splendours of
the regal period and confirm the importance which the cult — and those
who brought it to Rome — had for the royal power during the years of the
Etruscan monarchy. Even more significant perhaps is the fact that the
popularity of the shrine and its prosperity seem to follow the fortunes of
the Etruscan kings of Rome. The last votive offerings belong to the late
sixth century B.c., and it may be no coincidence that, in the very years
which saw the birth of the republican state, the temple was abandoned,
not to be rebuilt until over a century later.3°

Nonetheless, the Aphrodite of the emporia appears not only in the
great cities of southern Etruria, but also in others along the Latin
coastline. From the mouth of the Liris, where the goddess Marica was
explicitly identified with Aphrodite of the Sea (Pontia), to the beaches of
Antium, which venerated the Fortunae in the two guises of the goddess,
as virgin and as matron, to Satricum, where the aspect of Mater Matuta
predominated (at Rome, in the shrine of Sant’ Omobono, she was
associated with Fortuna the Maid (Virgo)), to Ardea with its
Aphrodisium, and indeed to the great pan-Latin Aphrodisium of
Lavinium, the guardian goddess of the emporia secured trade and
navigation by her presence. The evidence from Lavinium (p. 59f; Fig.
21) illustrates the importance the goddess had assumed: the shrine ‘of the
thirteen altars’, almost certainly identifiable with the pan-Latin
Aphrodisium, which was inaugurated in its monumental form around
$70 B.C. with an altar and with the ‘consecration’ of a princely tomb of a
century earlier for the divine cult of Pater Indiges-Aeneas,?! is the most
eloquent demonstration of the impact on local religious traditions of
those who thronged the emporia. It is therefore logical that around this
Aphrodisium there should have grown up the complex ritual of the
Vinalia Rustica, the sacred celebration of the grape harvest and the
‘mystery’ of the fermentation of the wine, of a cultural inheritance, that
is, which the Etruscan—Latin world had taken over during the eighth
century from ancient Greek and oriental technology. No less part of the
same picture is the appearance in this same context of the cult of the
Dioscuri, a Greek borrowing openly acknowledged as such
epigraphically by the well-known inscribed bronze plaque from
Lavinium (Fig. 63: p. 579), which may be dated to the first phase of the
monumental shrine.*2

* For another discussion of the history of this temple see below, pp. 76ff.
3! For an alternative, later, dating of this shrine see below, p. 69. _* Torelli 1984[I7o].

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CONCLUSION 51

It was through the agency of those who frequented the emporia that
Etruscan and Latin culture acquired the whole of its vast ideological and
technological Greek heritage and adapted it to its own needs, reshaping
rites and remoulding divine images to serve the whole complex social
stratification which had gradually been created over the three centuries
that saw the slow formation of urban structures.

Vv. CONCLUSION

The ‘archaeological’ history which has been briefly outlined above does
not claim to be in any way exhaustive. Rather, our aim has been to draw
attention to the considerable potential of this evidence, which should not
be understood either as supporting a particular interpretation of the
literary tradition, itself shrouded with ancient and modern uncertainties
and misunderstandings, or asa self-sufficient reality, devoid of links with
the real dynamics of historical events. Limitations on the space available
for this exposition have made it necessary to stress only certain aspects of
the whole range of evidence. Nevertheless, it may confidently be hoped
that the historian’s attention has been drawn at least to the main lines of
an economic, social and cultural complex which can at once be integrated
with the broad picture that emerges from a critical and non-reductive
interpretation of the literary tradition.

The reader will be able to co-ordinate for himself this sequence of
major archaeological events with the historical data which emerge from
the following chapter by A. Momigliano, and it is therefore unnecessary
to attempt that task here. A single uniform approach to the world of
southern Etruria and Latium (while making proper allowance for differ-
ences due to diversity in the social and cultural rather than in the ethnic
background) is undoubtedly fruitful; it helps to restore to the long-term
historical process the basic unity which existed between these two
worlds, and also enhances our understanding of the diverse destinies
which the passage of time allotted to Etruria, Latium and Rome. But the
relatively provisional character of an ‘archaeological history’ should
always be borne in mind, since by its very nature it is destined to undergo
progressive modification in the course of time. Hence in integrating the
one type of history with the other an even greater degree of caution must
be exercised than that indicated in the opening paragraphs of this chapter
— yet without abandoning completely such an attempt in the manner
which has unfortunately become an increasingly dangerous and regret-
table habit amongst both historians and archaeologists.

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CHAPTER 3

THE ORIGINS OF ROME

A. MOMIGLIANO

I. THE PROBLEMS OF CONTEXT

The question whether Rome wasa Greek polis was asked in Greece in the
fourth century B.c. by scholars like Heraclides Ponticus who at least in
theoretical terms were well qualified to answer (Plut. Cam. 22). An
alternative question was suggested by other Greek scholars whom
Dionysius of Halicarnassus leaves unidentified (Amt. Rom. 1.29.2):
whether Rome was or had been an Etruscan polis. The definition of
Rome as a Greek polis evidently still appealed to philhellenic historians
such as the senator C. Acilius (?) in the second century B.c., when Rome
was turning into an empire of unprecedented structure (Jac. FGrH 813
F1). On the other hand the question of Etruscan influence on Roman
institutions and customs was still very much in the mind of historians like
Strabo (v.2.2, pp. 219~20C). These alternative interpretations — of Rome
as a Greek city or as an Etruscan city — remain significant for us too. But
we are now more aware of one of the difficulties inherent in the
opposition: the Etruscans themselves developed their cities with an eye
to Greek models.

As we know, between approximately 850 B.c. and 700 B.c. a profound
social transformation started in Greece and spread to Italy, the outcome
of which was the creation of the classical city-state. Initially this trans-
formation involved the displacement of groups which either went to
remote places, often overseas, in what we call colonization or simply
created a new town in the neighbourhood where they used to live.
Forcible removal of inhabitants from one place to another was not
excluded. The technological conditions of these developments are not
always evident. However, improvements in the control of waters — either
through irrigation or by navigation; better metallurgy with increased
and more skilful use of iron and with wider exchange of tin and copper;
availability of surpluses of wheat, oil and wine in certain places and in
certain years with consequently a wider range of trade; and finally, most
elusive of all, the military superiority of certain groups seem to be the
main factors. The creation of colonial establishments such as Al-Mina in

§2

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PROBLEMS OF CONTEXT 53

Syria and Pithecusae on the island of Ischia during the eighth century
gives some measure of the range of Greek trade and of the countries
involved. By importing iron and copper from Etruria Pithecusae estab-
lished direct contact between Greeks and Etruscans and initiated a
migration of Greek artisans, traders and aristocrats into Etruscan towns
which led to widespread assimilation of Greek cultural patterns by the
Etruscans and their neighbours, among whom were the Latins and more
specifically the recent settlers of the new town of Rome.

The formation of city-states in Italy under the influence of Greek
models is therefore indisputable. But several factors complicate our
understanding of it. First of all we are not yet in a position to account for
the authority, skill and rapidity with which the Etruscans turned the
Villanovan culture of Central Italy (whether it was native or alien ground
to them) into one of the most enduring networks of cities history has ever
known. It is only too obvious that the Etruscans remained different from
the Greeks, however much they learned from them; and it will become
apparent from what follows that what the Romans learned from the
Greeks does not coincide with what the Etruscans learned from them. In
particular we are still in the dark about what the near-Etruscan popula-
tion of Lemnos contributed both to the contacts between the Etruscans
and the East and to their peculiar interpretation of Greek social and
cultural models: the presence of Greeks at Lemnos prior to the conquest
by Miltiades seems now to have been established.!

Furthermore we cannot forget the parallel phenomenon of urbaniza-
tion, trade and colonization among the Phoenicians who competed with
the Greeks in the western Mediterranean and shared with them many
basic attitudes to social life. The co-operation between the Etruscans and
the Phoenicians of Carthage became close, and was extended to Rome
only in the sixth century B.c., but it had developed from old contacts with
the Phoenicians in general since at least the eighth century (cf. Fig. 15).
Though it now seems probable that both the Etruscans and the Latins
got their alphabetic writing from the Greeks rather than from the
Phoenicians, Phoenician imports appear in tombs, and one in Praeneste
has a Phoenician inscription.2 There is no conclusive evidence for the
existence of a Phoenician (Tyrian) quarter in Rome in the seventh
century, as suggested by R. Rebuffat, but D. van Berchem has made out a
strong case for the Phoenician origin of the cult of Hercules (= Melgart)
in Rome. Phoenician contributions to the development of urban life in
Central Italy must at least be treated as a serious possibility.

Going beyond the events — or the traditions — of the eighth to the sixth

' Heurgon 1980{J65], 578-600. 2 Amadasi 1967[K1], 157.
3 Rebuffat 1966{K 162], 7-48; van Berchem 1967[G304], 73-109, 307-38.

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54 3- THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Fig. 15. Figured friezes from a faience vase depicting the Egyptian pharaoh Bocchoris. In the
upper frieze he stands by a table between the deities Neith and Horus and is then seen
conducted by the gods Horus (I.) and Thot (r.). The lower frieze shows negro prisoners sitting
among palms. The vase is either Phoenician or Egyptian work and was made before
Bocchoris’ death in 715. It was found in a female grave at Tarquinii, probably of the first
quarter of the seventh century. After A. Rathje in Ridgway and Ridgway 1979 [Arrt], 151,
fig. m1.

centuries B.C., recent research has been considering Mycenaean influ-
ences and Indo-European survivals in Latium. They undeniably exist,
but their extent is still very controversial. Evidence is increasing for
Mycenaean imports into Italy. Greek-speaking people traded and prob-
ably even settled in Sicily and southern Italy at given moments between
1500 and 1100 B.c. No Mycenaean sherd has, however, been securely
identified on the site of Rome; and altogether Latium remains poorly
represented on the 1981 map of Mycenaean finds in Italy. Believers in a
strong Mycenaean influence on early Rome, among whom the most
authoritative is E. Peruzzi,‘ therefore have to rely on linguistic data and
Greek myths for the hypothesis that there was a Mycenaean settlement
on the Palatine. The evidence so far adduced fails to persuade, being
made up of doubtful etymologies and of an unorthodox use of the legend
of Euander (p. 58f).

In comparison, the case for the Indo-European heritage in Rome is far
stronger. In a general sense it is in fact indisputable. The Latins, and
therefore the Romans, spoke an Indo-European language and wor-
shipped some unmistakably Indo-European gods (though not many).
The point in dispute is more specific. It has been the life-work of an
exceptionally able and influential scholar, Georges Dumeézil, to try to
demonstrate that the institutional and intellectual patrimony of the

4 Peruzzi 1980[I so}.

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PROBLEMS OF CONTEXT 55

Romans was organized according to a coherent Indo-European pattern.5
In his earliest works Dumézil identified this pattern in a division of
archaic Roman society into three ‘functional’ tribes, one of rulers and
priests (Ramnes), one of producers (Tities) and one of warriors
(Luceres). A tripartite religion, culminating in the triad Iuppiter, Mars
and Quirinus (where Mars is the god of war and Quirinus of peace and
production), would have corresponded to the three ‘functional’ tribes or
castes. Later, however, Dumézil changed his mind. He admitted that the
three Romulean tribes were no castes and explicitly stated that no Indo-
European institution was recognizable in Rome except at the level of
terminological continuity (e.g. rex (‘king’) compared with Indian raj(an)
and Celtic rig). Consequently, in this second phase Dumézil confined
himself to seeking the tripartite ideology in religion and myth. He has
suggested that the stories about the origins of Rome from Romulus to
Ancus Marcius are Indo-European myths turned into history by a
peculiar twist of the Roman mind. It is generally admitted that Dumézil
has succeeded in showing various degrees of similarity between Roman
myths (or legends) and myths (or legends) circulating among other Indo-
European groups. The story of the contest between three Latin and three
Alban brothers, the Horatii and Curiatii (Livy 1.24.1ff; Dion. Hal. Ant.
Rom. 111.13—22; etc.), isan example. But it is less certain that Dumézil and
his followers have been able to re-interpret the history of the Roman
monarchy persuasively as the projection of a collective mentality ob-
sessed by tripartition. There is of course an element of truth both in the
earlier and in the later Dumézil. Any society has to operate with priests,
warriors and producers, and has to place its leaders somewhere between
priests, warriors and producers. It is not surprising that Dumézil’s
tripartition could easily be applied in the study of the western Middle
Ages. What Dumézil cannot do, because it is contradictory in terms, is to
postulate an invariable Indo-European pattern as the explanation of the
continuously changing relations between the social groups of Rome.
Nothing is gained, however, by replacing Dumézil’s Indo-European
model with A. Alfdldi’s ‘nomadic’ model.6 Taking his cue from descrip-
tions of Iranian and Turkish nomads, Alfoldi postulated two stages in
archaic Roman society, one matriarchal based on tripartite institutions
(such as three tribes and 30 curiae) and the other patriarchal with binary
institutions (such as double monarchy). This is no more demonstrable
than the existence of a rule of exogamy in the patriarchal society of the
second stage. But Alfdldi’s researches have raised problems which
cannot be disregarded, such as the importance of the cavalry and of
youth-groups in archaic Roman society.

5 See Dumézil 1941-3[G395]; 1944[A41]; 1958[A4q3]; 1968—73[G396]; 1969[G 397]; 1974 [G 398].
6 See AlfOldi 1974f{Ar].

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56 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

At present the traditional alternative, of interpreting archaic Romeasa
society similar either to a Greek or to an Etruscan city-state, is compli-
cated by the emergence of other, often more remote, factors, which have
not yet been defined with sufficient clarity. It must be added that even
some fundamental features of Roman society of the seventh to the sixth
centuries B.c. are in themselves obscure. It is enough to remind ourselves
that the regime of land-ownership is an unsolved problem, because of the
uncertainties surrounding the key-term heredium (p. 100), and that the
structure of Roman monarchy is obfuscated by our ignorance of the
original meaning and function of the /ex curiata de imperio which may (or
may not) have given legitimacy to a new king (p. 105). In these circum-
stances it has seemed prudent to give separate accounts of the archaeo-
logical and of the literary evidence and to refrain from more tentative
hypotheses which would be justified and welcome in a personal mono-
graph. In the past centuries, even down to the time of B. G. Niebuhr and
Th. Mommsen, any study of archaic Rome was an examination of the
traditional account transmitted to us by the surviving ancient texts, the
most important of which belong to the late first century B.c. (Diodorus,
Dionysius of Halicarnassus and Livy): the Dutchman J. Perizonius
(1685) and the Frenchman L. De Beaufort (1738) are usually considered
the pioneers of this critical examination of the literary sources, but narnes
could easily be multiplied. What is new in our century is the accumula-
tion of new archaeological (including epigraphic) evidence. It is now
ample enough to provide a story of its own which can be used to check
the literary evidence and vice versa can be checked against the literary
evidence. As archaeological research can, to a certain extent, be planned
with specific problems in mind, it has increasingly been directed towards
obtaining answers to questions (especially about material conditions of
life and social stratification) for which the literary evidence is insufficient
or unreliable, being much later than the events themselves.

Il. THE MYTHS OF FOUNDATION

Before we turn to archaeology, it is, however, wise to give some
attention to the foundation legend of Rome as it appears in our literary
sources. The peculiar Roman synthesis of the legend of Romulus with
the legend of Aeneas no doubt developed slowly through the centuries
with materials which are partly indigenous, partly Greek and perhaps
partly Etruscan. It is important as an indication of what the Romans
thought about themselves at least from the end of the fourth century B.c.
onwards. When the Romans decided that they were ultimately Trojans,
they were in effect saying that they were neither Greeks nor Etruscans —
an answer in anticipation to the question put by the Greeks whether
Rome was a Greek or an Etruscan polis.

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MYTHS OF FOUNDATION 57

The notion that Aeneas founded Rome either with Odysseus or after
Odysseus (the text is uncertain) is attributed by Dionysius of
Halicarnassus (Ant. Rom. 1.72.2) to Hellanicus. When Hellanicus wrote
in the late fifth century B.c., the text of Hesiod’s Theogony had been
circulating for a long time with lines, perhaps interpolated, announcing
that Circe bore Odysseus two sons, Agrius and Latinus ‘who was
faultless and strong . . . they ruled over the famous Tyrrhenians in a
distant recess of the holy islands’ (1010-1016). These passages, of course,
belong to Greek speculations about the peregrinations of the heroes of
the Trojan War. We owe also to a Greek writer — the Sicilian Alkimos —
the earliest reference which associates Romulus with Aeneas, if it is true
that Alkimos lived about 350 B.c. (Jac. FGrH 560 F4). He stated that
Romulus was the only son of Aeneas by Tyrrhenia and the father of Alba
whose son Rhomos (an obvious emendation of the ‘Rhodios’ of the
MSS) became the founder of Rome. Though Romulus makes his first
appearance in this Greek text, it can hardly be doubted that his connexion
with Aeneas was artificial and imposed by the existence of a native,
Roman legend which the Greeks had to take into account.

As it appears in our main sources of the Caesarean and Augustan age,
the Roman version of the foundation legend preserves the connexion of
Romulus with Aeneas through a series of kings of Alba Longa who were
the descendants of Aeneas. A daughter of one of these kings was raped by
the god Mars (though there were other versions of the story) and gave
birth to the twins Romulus and Remus. The subsequent events can be
divided into four sections. In the first the twins, who had miraculously
survived by being fed by a wolf, start a career as youth leaders, decide to
found a new city and quarrel between themselves at the moment of the
ritual foundation, so that the foundation of the city was also an act of
fratricide. In the second sequence Romulus, by now alone, pursues the
policy of a robber chief, collects male citizens for Rome indiscriminately
and gives them wives by a collective act of rape of Sabine women. In the
third scene Romans and Sabines become united under the joint leader-
ship of Romulus and Titus Tatius (the only dual kingship in the Roman
tradition) and are organized into three tribes and thirty curiae. In the
fourth section the episodes, mainly of military conquest, are less neatly
characterized, except for the final disappearance of Romulus which.
represents the model for the Roman divinization of sovereigns. Though
it is easy to produce parallels to individual episodes or even to individual
sections of this foundation story (and of course Cain and Abel, Moses,
Cyrus, the twin Indian Nasatya and the wars between Asi and Vani in the
Icelandic saga have all been invoked in turn) there is no obvious general
model for the story. The substance of the legend must already have been
elaborated long before 296 B.c. when a statue of the wolf with the twins
was solemnly set up (Livy x.23.1). The conventional account was to be

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58 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

found in the first of the Roman historians Fabius Pictor (writing in
Greek) about the end of the third century B.c. Plutarch (Row. 3.1; 8.7)
says that Fabius Pictor’s account corresponded to that given previously
by the Greek Diocles of Peparethus. This basically confirms that the
compromise between a Greek and a Latin version of the origins of Rome
had already become canonical in the second half of the third century. The
compromise was increasingly easy because it became evident that if the
foundation of Rome had to be put about 250 years before the beginning
of the Republic, it could not be attributed either to Aeneas or to his
immediate descendants. Hence the creation of a series of intermediate
Alban kings, which the poet Naevius had not yet considered necessary,
but which his contemporary Fabius Pictor admitted. Thus Aeneas and
Romulus became perfectly compatible.

The sum total of the legend represented in itself an ideological
orientation. The first characteristic of the myth about the foundation of
Rome is precisely that it is a myth about a city, not about a tribe or a
nation. The citizens of Rome were always conscious of belonging to the
comparatively small nation of the Latins which in its turn was identifi-
able by its specific language, its specific sanctuaries and (at least for a long
time) federal institutions. The Roman story recognizes the existence
of the Latins and of their centres Lavinium and Alba Longa, but does not
explain the origins of the Latins as a whole. Secondly, the Roman legend
emphasized in its most authoritative versions that both Aeneas and
Romulus had one divine parent (but on the opposite side, Aeneas having
a divine mother and Romulus a divine father: Venus and Mars were not
unknown to each other in Greek myths). Both were leaders of migrant
bands which in turn absorbed alien elements. The ultimate impression
the Romans wanted to give of themselves was of a society with divine,
but by no means pure, origins in which political order was created by the
fusion of heterogeneous and often raffish elements, after a fratricide had
marked the city’s foundation. No doubt, as we shall see, the legend
transmitted some awareness of the part played by juvenile bands of
adventurers under aristocratic leaders in the archaic societies of Central
Italy. In the ritual of the ver sacrum (the ‘sacred spring’), as a consequence
of a previous vow, a band of young people was sent away to seek new
land under a leader who in his turn was supposed to follow a sacred
animal (p. 284). But the ver sacrum was only the most sacralized version of
these juvenile migrations. Significantly, Romulus did not lead a ver
sacrum. The Romans, while giving notice that they did not consider
themselves either Greek or Etruscan, also displayed considerable sophis-
tication in defining the mixed origins of their citizen body.

Having made their point in the main story, they acknowledged an
early relationship with the Greeks in its later developments, by allowing

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MYTHS OF FOUNDATION 39

the Palatine hill to be occupied by the Arcadian Euander before Aeneas
reached Latium. We do not know who first invented this story. The
Romans also came to recognize an Etruscan contribution to the original
population of the city by various devices, including the artificial connex-
ion of one of the three Romulean tribes, the Luceres, with the Etruscans.
There is more than a premonition of the future attitudes of the Romans to
empire in their stubborn defence of their own identity against the Greeks
and Etruscans, while declaring themselves a nation ready to assimilate
foreigners without racial prejudices or even moral pretensions.

Strikingly enough in this context, the Romans at an early period gave
signs that they were ready to identify themselves with the Sabines.
Showing another element of guilt about their origins which
superimposed itself on that of fratricide, they believed that Romulus had
achieved fusion with the Sabines by raping their women. His successor
Numa Pompilius, a model religious leader, was a Sabine. It is no less
puzzling that the Sabine Titus Tatius should appear as a joint king with
Romulus. Why should Rome have had first a potential joint king,
Remus, and then a temporary joint king, Titus Tatius? The possible
connexion with the double consulate of the Roman Republic adds to the
obscurity rather than detracting from it. We should have to know more
about the early contacts between the Latins and the neighbouring
Sabines, who, with their forays into the plains and hills of Latium (such as
Rome still experienced in the middle of the fifth century B.c. when
Appius Herdonius occupied the Capitol (p. 286)) and, probably, with
attempts to secure land for themselves among the Latins, must have
created anxiety among the Romans.

What we have said is not, however, intended to explain the myth of the
Roman foundation — only to indicate the direction which the Romans
gave to their future by the political ideology implicit in this myth. We
would understand it better if we knew whether the Etruscans had used
similar ingredients for their myths. A wolf feeding a human child appears
on an Etruscan stele from the Certosa of Bologna attributable to the fifth
or fourth century B.c. (Fig. 16). An Etruscan scarab of about 500 B.c.
(Luyne Collection in Paris) represents Aeneas carrying his father. Statu-
ettes of Aeneas in the same posture were found at Veii. But we are far
from knowing what the Etruscans made of children fed by wolves or of
Aeneas carrying his father, the more so because the Veii figurines may
well belong to the time when Veii was Roman. We cannot be certain that
the Attic vases with representations of Aeneas found in Etruria express
the taste of Etruscan customers, rather than that of the Athenian paint-
ers. Another factor about which we should like to know more is the role
of the Latin city of Lavinium in shaping the legend of Aeneas. Dionysius
of Halicarnassus saw a heroon of Aeneas in the town (Ant. Rom. 1.64.5).

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60 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

-1 0 1 2 3 475 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20m
a rn

Fig. 17a. Lavinium ‘heroon’: plan. From Roma medio-repubblicana 1973 (Baor), 514 fig. 24.

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MYTHS OF FOUNDATION 61

Fig. 17b. Lavinium ‘heroon’: reconstruction. From C.F. Giuliani and P. Sommella, PP 32
(1977), 368 fig. 8.

Italian archaeologists believe that they have identified it in a sacred
building of the fourth century 8.c. which includes a tomb of the seventh
century (Fig. 17; cf. p. 50). In the early third century B.c. Timaeus learned
from natives of Latium that Aeneas brought sacred objects of his
own to Lavinium (Jac. FGrH 566 F59). These objects must be identified
with the Penates Populi Romani which the Roman consuls and praetors
were required to visit in Lavinium each year (Varro, Ling. v.144;
Macrob. Saf. 111.4.11). Furthermore, the Greek poet Lycophron in the
Alexandra (third or second century B.c.) seems to be the first to state that
Aeneas founded Lavinium (implied in l. 1259). Livy and other writers
knew that Aeneas had died by drowning in the river Numicus not far
from Lavinium and was worshipped under the name of luppiter Indiges.
An inscription from Tor Tignosa, near Lavinium, with its mention of
“Lar Aeneas” has been taken by many as a reference to this cult of Aeneas.
Cumulatively the evidence suggests an old concern in Lavinium with
Aeneas which may have preceded and inspired Rome’s interest in him. In
any case when the Romans decided to be Trojans they knew they could
count on the sympathy of other Latin towns.

7 ELLRP 1271. On the problems of the reading cf. Kolbe 1970[E37], 1-9; Guarducci 1971[E34],
74-89.

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Tombs

Habitation sites
Huts
Houses
Other
Religious sites
Votive deposits
Shrines/temples
Other
Defences
Reconstructed line of ‘Servian’ wall

Conjectural agger and fossa defences of Esquiline and Quirinal

100 200 300metres
nl

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SETTLEMENT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE 63

Ill. SETTLEMENT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE IN LATIUM AND AT
ROME

We can now turn to the archaeological evidence (Maps 1 and 2; Fig. 18).
Rome has been a city for the living for about three thousand years. The
living inevitably destroy the past in order to live. What is left for
archaeologists in the best of cases raises the problem of how typical and
representative the finds are of the period to which they belong. In recent
years modern technology has increased the danger of total destruction of
the traces of the past. Any new building in Rome or any new road —
especially any new motorway — in Latium is likely to erase ancient
remains. Many of the recent archaeological discoveries (for instance at
Castel di Decima) are the result of emergency rescue work. What has
been achieved remains exceptional both in quality and in quantity. We
shall try here to summarize the main historical results, and we shall
obviously give special attention to the more recent, and only partly
published, excavations.

At the beginning of the first millennium B.c. there were many more
forests in Latium than we might imagine. Even the Roman hills looked
considerably different, with the Oppian still united with the Palatine and
the Quirinal with the Capitoline. A little lake stood on the site of the
present Colosseum, and the Campus Martius included a lake of its own,
Lacus Caprae. Wheat (triticum turgidum, L., as distinct from emmer, spelt,
barley and oats), wine, olive oil and even apples were apparently relative
novelties in the early eighth century B.c. With the harbour of Ostia still in
the future — tradition puts it in the late seventh century B.c., archaeology
seems to scale it down to the fourth century — only the place we call
Antium was a safe coastal harbour. The seasonal movement of livestock
— transhumance — being then as now an essential feature of Italian
pastoral life, the internal roads of Latium along the rivers Tiber and Anio

Fig. 18. The archaeology of early Rome: location map. After Gjerstad 1933-73 [A356], figs.

I-2.

1. Sacra Via necropolis 13. Sant?’ Omobono

z. Temple of Caesar 14. ‘Scalae Caci’

3. House of Livia 15. Atrium of Domus Augustana
4. Forum Augusti 16. Aula Regia of Domus Augustana
§. Quirinal 17. Lararium of Domus Augustana
6. Velia 18. Palatine (near House of Livia)
7. Cispian 19. S. Maria della Vittoria

8. Esquiline necropolis 20. Villino Hiffer

9. Regia 21. Capitol (SE)

10. Capitoline habitation strata? 22. Lapis Niger
11. Sacra Via 23. Capitoline temple
12. Equus Domitiani 24. Temple of Vesta

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64 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

maintained contacts with the outside world of Etruria, Campania and
Umbria, each with its peculiar mixture of languages, religious rituals and
political institutions. Groups of huts formed the villages which in the
seventh century were slowly replaced by wider settlements both of
unbaked and baked bricks. The earlier fortifications of the villages were
earthworks. Varro still saw some of them inside Rome (p. 36). The place
where Rome ultimately developed was attractive to those who wanted to
cross the Tiber on their way from Etruria to Campania or, more
urgently, needed the salt to be found abundantly in the salt beds at the
mouth of the Tiber.

The thin population, which to present-day archaeologists seems to be
indistinguishable from other groups of the Appenninic bronze culture,
begins to thicken and to acquire characteristics of its own in the tenth
century. Though there are competitive systems of classification, the
following scheme which basically goes back to H. Miiller-Karpe’ has
become a sort of internationally recognized code:

Latial Culture

Phase I (Final Bronze Age) 1000-900 B.C,

IIA (Early Iron Age) 900-830 B.C.

IIB 830-770 B.C.

Ul 770-730 B.C.

IVA (Early and Middle 730-630 B.C.
Orientalizing Style)

IVB Late Orientalizing 630-580 B.C.

Continuity with preceding sites can (as far as present data tell us) seldom
be proved. Traces of preceding occupation have, however, been found —
among others — on the site of the later Rome not far from the Forum
Boarium (going back to the fifteenth century B.c.), in Pratica di Mare
(that is, Lavinium) and towards the coast at Ardea. One must add
immediately that our knowledge of cemeteries is far better than that of
residential settlements. The fact that in Phases I and IIA cremation
prevailed, almost exclusively, on certain sites does not further reduce our
chances of understanding how people lived, because the ashes were often
put into urns representing the huts of the dead, while miniature (and
even normal-size) reproductions of the dead person’s belongings were
’ strewn about. The urn was in its turn inserted into a large jar with a wide
mouth, the do/ivm. Negatively, Phase I is characterized by the absence of
the typical bi-conical Proto-Villanovan urns which are present at
Allumiere, La Tolfa, etc. Allumiere and Phase I of Latium, however,
share the custom of the double container for the ashes. Valley bottom

§ Miller-Karpe 195 9[E114].

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SETTLEMENT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE 65

settlements may be replaced by sites on the west slopes of the Alban hills.
The Alban hills — where Alba Longa was situated (more or less modern
Castelgandolfo) — have been described as the cradle of Iron Age culture
in Latium, but so far the evidence about Alba Longa itself has been most
disappointing (p. 265), to the extent that some scholars have asked
whether it ever existed. In Phase IIA inhumation begins to compete with
cremation. It is unnecessary to say that the theories which explained the
co-existence of inhumation and incineration as the sign of co-existence of
two different ethnic groups are now discredited. But it is as well to
remember that fifty years ago it was the right thing to believe that
cremators spoke an Oscan—Umbrian dialect, when they did not speak
Etruscan, whereas inhumation was a sign of competent Latinity.
F, von Duhn’s archaeology and G. Devoto’s linguistics were both, alas,
marred by this mythology.° It is true that Lavinium seems to lead in
inhumation practices (though incineration has been located there too),
and Lavinium was supposed to have been founded by Aeneas and to
preserve the gods (Penates) brought by him from Troy. But what can we
deduce from that?

In the ninth and early eighth centuries the villages were often in
clusters. No central power seems apparent, at least in archaeological
terms. One would like to see the state of Latium in those centuries
reflected in the list of the thirty peoples of Latium which Pliny gives in his
Natural History (111.69). Pliny certainly preserves the memory of an old
ritual: the title of his list is ‘triginta carnem in monte Albano soliti
accipere populi Albenses’.!° But the names of the thirty peoples given by
Pliny are dubious for various reasons (p. 267f), and even their number
creates difficulties.!! We have no way of deciding whether the list is due
to conjectures by antiquarians or reflects authentic data and, if authentic,
to which century it belongs. What we learn from excavations is that in
Phases ITA and IIB, that is, from roughly 900 to 770 B.c., there was an
enlargement and reorganization both of the several cemeteries and of the
very few villages we happen to know. In the place which was to be
known in classical times as Tibur (present-day Tivoli), on the hill where
the Rocca of Pius II now stands, the reshaping of the burial area is
evident: individual tombs are surrounded by circular enclosures. At the
same time a tendency to enlarge the occupation of the plains became
manifest: we ultimately owe to it the rise of Rome. A most impressive
necropolis began to be excavated in 1971 on the modern Via Prenestina

9 von Duhn 1924-39[B323}; G. Devoto, Gli antichi Italici (Ed.1, Florence, 1931); cf. id. Stud. Efr.
6 (1932) 243-Go; Athenaeum N.S. 31 (1953) 335-43; Stud. Etr. 26 (1958) 17-25.

10 ‘The thirty Alban peoples who regularly received (sacrificial) meat on the Alban Mount.’

11 Lycoph. Alex. 125 3ff; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 111.31.4; cf. Diod. vit.5.9; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom.
v.61. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.49 gives the members as forty-seven.

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66 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

on the western edge of the now dried-up Lake of Castiglione. It has
become known as the necropolis of the Osteria dell’Osa. It was perhaps
one of the cemeteries of the city of Gabii, a mysterious little place where
Romulus and Remus were supposed to have been educated (Dion. Hal.
Ant. Rom. 1.84.5). Gabii was absorbed into the Roman state during the
sixth century B.c. The treaty between Gabii and Rome inscribed on a
leather shield was preserved in the sanctuary of Semo Sancus on the
Quirinal and was one of the antiquarian oddities dear to the writers of the
Augustan age.'2 About two hundred tombs were found in the cemetery
of the Osteria dell’Osa where the teachers of Romulus, if any, must be
supposed to have found their final rest. Cremation tombs a pozzo (in the
form of a pit) and inhumation tombs a fossa (trench) were mixed, the
latter being in the majority. From the tomb furniture it would appear that
cremation was reserved to adult males, though some of the deceased
were inhumed like the women and children. The other peculiarity is that
only cremation graves contain weapons. Here cremation clearly implies
status, and the ashes are placed in urns representing dwellings — presum-
ably emphasizing that the man was a pater familias (household head). In
the process of time (IIB) inhumation seems to become the absolute rule.
We may add here that Gabii itself seems to have been identified, and a
seventh-century sanctuary and a sixth-century building have been ex-
plored. The seventh-century sanctuary yielded Italo-Geometric and
Corinthian pottery and votive statuettes.

Phase III (about 770-730) presents throughout more precise signs of
social differentiation. Iron is by now in general use, and bronze has a
prestige value. In Phase III of the Osteria dell’Osa (which is still largely
unpublished) wheel-made pottery makes its appearance, and some tombs
stand out as particularly wealthy ones. Weapons abound everywhere in
men’s tombs; chariots appear both for men and for women, and are
therefore signs of status. Some of the painted pottery appears to be
inspired by Greek Geometric models. We are reminded that the island of
Ischia was colonized by Euboean Greeks about 775 B.c. and that Greek
imports surround Latium, at Veii in Etruria and Pontecagnano, Capua,
and Cumae in Campania. Taking the area as a whole, artisan production
seems to go beyond local needs and to be due, at least partly, to itinerant
or immigrant smiths and potters. A rich deposit of bronze objects
belonging to this Phase III was discovered by chance at Ardea in 1952.

This is in chronological terms the age of Romulus according to the
conventional date. But so far archaeology has not yet revealed any
inscription or any other sign pertaining to the foundation act, if there was
one (as tradition states), a point of some relevance. There are on the

12 Dion. Hal. Ast. Rom. 1v.38; Hor. Epist. 11.1.5; ef. Paul. Fest. 48L.

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SETTLEMENT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE 67

contrary signs that the Palatine and the Forum had been occupied earlier,
at least since the tenth century, to which some tombs discovered in the
Forum belong (Fig. 24). As already mentioned, on other neighbouring
sites the occupation may be even more ancient. The excavations of the
area of Sant? Omobono have revealed materials going back to the
fifteenth century B.c., though mixed with later strata. There is no
archaeological confirmation of, and some evidence against, the tra-
ditional date of the foundation of Rome in the eighth century. True
enough, three hut floors belonging to the eighth century were discov-
ered on the Palatine, more precisely on the Germalus side of it, in 1948.
They include holes for the wooden posts which must have formed the
solid framework for the walls (Fig. 19a). With the help of the dwellings
represented by funerary urns it is possible to reconstruct one of these
huts (Fig. 19b) and to give oneself the pleasure of imagining that it is the
casa or tugurium Romuli, Romulus’ hut, which was preserved on that spot
to the end of antiquity. But there would be no substance behind these
fancies. The Forum, which has yielded numerous tombs (both
inhumation and cremation) for the ninth and possibly early eighth
century B.C., ceased to be used for burials in the early eighth century. The
Esquiline cemetery seems to have acted as the main substitute. Only
children were still buried in the Forum, under huts, in the eighth and

> Bz F Pe
SIS ? ©

‘ ~*~

2
ve,'!

Fig. 19a. Palatine hut: plan. From Gjerstad 1953-73 [A356], 1v.46 fig. 4.

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68 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Fig. 19b. Palatine hut: reconstruction. From Gjerstad 195 3-73 [A56], 1v.46 fig. 5.

seventh centuries. The Forum was certainly a residential area in the
seventh century, and there are signs of occupation on the Capitoline hill.
The archaeological data we have do notallow us to decide whether Rome
resulted from the association of pre-existing villages or from the creation
of a central organization, say, on the Palatine — apart from the possibility
that the two phenomena were concurrent (cf. p. 35). Marks of wealth
appear in some of the tombs on the Esquiline, at least one of which hada
chariot among its furniture. The Esquiline cemetery must have lasted, to
judge from some Greek vases found there, until at least 630 B.c.: in fact, it
was probably used much later. Outside Rome, the discovery at La
Rustica on the Via Collatina in 1975 of a previously unknown proto-
historic site has added to our knowledge of Phase III and of its wealth in
bronze objects.

We are approaching a stage (Phase IV) which we can appreciate better
because it reminds us immediately of things we have seen elsewhere in
civilizations which have long been familiar. The orientalizing style in
Italy is in fact a mixture of techniques and objects coming from Greece
and the East. No doubt Greek and eastern artisans could have been on
the spot to work for the new wealthy aristocrats and tyrants; but after all
the Greeks were appearing in strength on the Tyrrhenian coast (Cumae)
and in Sicily, and the Phoenicians were both in Sardinia and in Sicily. As
for the Etruscans, they may or may not have come from the East in the

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SETTLEMENT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE 69

ninth and eighth centuries. To the sites which we have so far mentioned
one at least must be added, with due emphasis on its importance. On the
ancient road to Lavinium, 18 km. south of Rome, the place of Castel di
Decima has been famous since 1971 when it became obvious that an
archaic necropolis was in danger of destruction because of the work for
the new Via Pontina. Though there are tombs of earlier periods, Castel di
Decima is essentially a document of the orientalizing phase of Latium
with its new display of wealth, sometimes of exotic origin. One interest-
ing feature of this necropolis is that some of the tombs (all inhumation)
have swords only among their furniture, others spears only, while there
are some with both spears and swords. The known tombs of the new
necropolis are said to be more than 350. The element of chance in the
finds of tombs containing swords and spears makes it hard to explain the
distribution pattern. It may have something to do with rank and age. In
the Roman archaic army the ‘hastati hasta pugnabant’, as Varro says
(Ling. v.89), ‘principes gladiis’. That is, the younger soldiers (Aastati) had
spears, the senior ones swords. The tombs offer intimation of family
groups, and of continuity through a few generations. Chariots are again
found both for men and women. Two tombs deserve special mention:
tomb xv, which must have belonged to a very powerful man to whom
hunting and fighting were both familiar. He had accumulated much
bronze wealth (Fig. 20), some Greek vases (such as a Proto-Corinthian
aryballos of the end of the eighth century) and at least one Phoenician
amphora. The other tomb, c1, was occupied by a woman who could
afford not only a chariot, but refined silver and gold jewellery. A gold
and amber pectoral, a silver robe sewn with carved amber and glass beads
and gold spiral hair-rings suggested the title of “Tomb of the Princess’ for
this burial. One would like to be able to name the place where the
princess lived. Politorium, a place said to have been conquered by Ancus
Marcius on his way to Ostia (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rov. 111.38; Livy 1.33.3),
has been proposed. The town corresponding to the necropolis of Ponte
Decima has been probably identified not far from it on Monte Cicoriaro.
If its defence work in cappellaccio belongs to the sixth century the
identification with Politorium would not be affected, but the destruction
of Politorium by Ancus Marcius before 600 B.c. would become hard to
believe.

Nothing so spectacular has been found from this phase either in Rome
orat Lavinium. As we have already mentioned, a remarkable multi-period
monument has been discovered at Lavinium (Fig. 21). The monument has
in its earliest stratum a tomb with seventh-century orientalizing material
to which a sixth-century bucchero oinochoe was later added. The tomb
was renewed and turned into a shrine in the fourth century, for which
identification with the seroon of Aeneas has been suggested (p. sof;

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yo 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Fig. 20. Reconstruction of bronze tripod from Castel di Decima tomb xv (¢. 720-700 B.C.).
From Civilta del Lazio primitive 1976 (B306}, tav. Lxt1.

Fig. 17 a-b). Another sanctuary (ib.) goes back to the late sixth century
and may have been connected with both the cult of Aeneas and the Latin
League: in its final stage in the fourth century it had thirteen altars, one of
which was no longer in use. These sanctuaries are extra-urban, like
another where about sixty large statues were found dating from the sixth
to the fourth centuries. Four statues represent Minerva. The largest, of
the sixth century, shows Minerva accompanied by a Triton (Fig. 22), the
Tritonia virgo (‘Tritonian maiden’) of Virgil (Aen.11.171; v.615). A sanctu-
ary of Minerva in Lavinium was known to Lycophron (A/ex. 1281).
Let us add some details for the orientalizing period from other recent
explorations. At the so-called ‘Laurentina’ site, at a place called Acqua
Acetosa on the Via Laurentina, a necropolis was discovered in 1976
which may well rival Castel di Decima in importance; it is so far

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SETTLEMENT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE 71

Fig. 21. Lavinium and environs (after Castagnoli et al. 1972 [116]).

represented by about 50 tombs. They are rich, with gold and silver
ornaments for women. The later tombs are organized in distinct groups
forming a circle, with one or two more important tombs at the centre.
These central tombs contain chariots (also for women) and prestige
goods with large amounts of pottery, some of Greek and Phoenician
origin. The interest of the place is increased by the identification of the
residential area. Attic black figure pottery of the last quarter of the sixth

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72 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Fig. 22. Fifth-century statue of Minerva accompanied by Triton from the eastern sanctuary at
Lavinium. From F. Castagnoli, Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, anno 376. Problemi attuali di
scienza e cultura, Quad. 246 (1979).

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SETTLEMENT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE 73

century was found nearby. Two sherds incribed ‘Manias’ and
‘Karkafaios’ are apparently among the oldest personal names found in
Latium. Finally, another settlement of the orientalizing period has been
identified as the ancient Ficana on the hill of Monte Cugno overlooking
the plain of the Tiber (between Rome and Acilia). The fortification
(agger) seems to belong to the late eighth century. From the middle of the
seventh century B.c. huts give place in some cases to two-roomed
buildings. One sanctuary or public building was decorated with terra-
cotta revetments representing a procession of chariots and warriors (late
sixth century). A necropolis of about sixty tombs shows a steady decline
in funeral furniture. Towards the end of the seventh century all display of
wealth ends, though the cemetery goes on. From this point of view
Ficana raises with particular clarity the general problem of what caused
the change from prestige tombs to austerity tombs which is observable
throughout Latium at the end of the orientalizing period between 600
and 580 B.c. (cf. p. 37). The same problem is posed by the chamber tombs
of Torrino near the Via Laurentina.'3 People ceased displaying or rather
concealing prestige, and therefore fruitless, wealth in their tombs.
Earlier archaeological discoveries, in the last century, first revealed
what the wealth of the upper class in the seventh century could be at its
peak. Praeneste (modern Palestrina), in a splendid (but not yet exactly
identified) fortified position on Mount Ginestro, began to attract the
interest of archaeologists and looters in 1738 when one of the master-
pieces of archaic art — the Ficoroni Cista (p. 412) — was discovered. It wasa
reminder that Praeneste had been famous in antiquity for its fine bronzes.
The first great tomb in the orientalizing style to be properly recognized
was the Tomba Barberini of Praeneste. Discovered in 1855, it is now in
the Museo di Villa Giulia in Rome. The Tomba Castellani was discov-
ered in 1861-2; the Tomba Bernardini appeared in 1876. These tombs are
characterized by the almost unbelievable wealth and beauty of their metal
and ivory objects. The most obvious comparison is with the Tomba
Regolini-Galassi of Caere (now Cerveteri) which is preserved in the
Vatican Museum. Some of the objects are certainly of Eastern origin
(Assyria, Urartu, Phoenicia, Cyprus), but some oriental artists may have
been at work in Latium or at Ischia. Not all the objects were kept
together by the discoverers. One, the gold fibula (Fig. 23) inscribed
‘Manios me vhevhaked Numasioi’ (“Manios (Manius) made me (or ‘had
me made’?) for Numasios (Numerius)’) — perhaps the most famous
inscribed object from the whole of Latium — raises two doubts, one about
its origin and the other about its authenticity. It was published in 1887 by
an eminent archaeologist, W. Helbig,!* without indication of its origin.

13 Bedini 1981(B288], 5 7ff. ‘4 Helbig 1887[B232], 37-9.

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74 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Fig. 23. Manios fibula with retrograde inscription. From Civilta del Lazio primitivo 1976
{B306], tav. c.

Later Georg Karo declared that he had been told by Helbig that the
fibula, being of gold and obviously valuable, had been stolen from the
Tomba Bernardini.'5 However, doubts have repeatedly been expressed
about the authenticity of the fibula and therefore of its inscription, which
if genuine would be the oldest known Latin text, perhaps of the late
eighth century B.c. While Professor A. E. Gordon of Berkeley,'¢ after
careful examination of all the elements involved, inclined to take the
fibula as authentic, M. Guarducci has not only concluded that it is a
forgery but has identified the forger as the first editor, Helbig; she is
supported on linguistic grounds by E. P. Hamp.'7

With or without the Manios fibula Praeneste offered such a wealth of
archaic objects as to overshadow any other place in Latium. But Tibur
provided something less precious yet in a different way remarkable, in a
tomb with several ivory objects of the orientalizing style; and Satricum
(between Anzio and Cisterna) brought to light an extremely remarkable
collection of artistic objects in the stsps (offerings) of the temple of Mater
Matuta in its orientalizing phase. The stips also contained a vase, a
bucchero kylix of about 620-600 B.c., with an Etruscan inscription by a
man of Caere:!8

mi mulu larisale velyainasi
I given by Laris Velchaina

It remains an open question whether Rome had anything to offer of
comparable wealth, especially in the matter of tombs, in the eighth and
seventh centuries B.c. The Esquiline tombs, as far as our knowledge
goes, do not provide anything so opulent. It is possible, of course, that
this is misleading. The richest tombs may have been looted long ago, or
may still await discovery. But we must also consider the other two
possibilities, that Rome never had an aristocracy possessing wealth
comparable with that of Praeneste or that in Rome law or custom

'S See Zevi 1976[Bz74], o—2; cf. Karo 1904[B351], 24. 16 Gordon 1975[Bz24]-
17 Guarducci 1980{[B226], 413-574; 1984[Bz28], 127-77; Hamp 1981[Bzz9], 151-4.
'8 M. Cristofani Martelli, Stud. Etr. 44 (1974) 263f (n. 217).

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SETTLEMENT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE 75

intervened earlier than in surrounding places to discourage the accumu-
lation (or elimination) of wealth in tombs. In the sixth and fifth centuries
B.C. Rome clearly shared the ideals of aristocratic austerity of her Latin
(but not Etruscan) neighbours.

The finds from Rome are disappointing in the sense that they tell us
very little about what was happening outside the zone of the Forum and
Palatine. It would be very interesting to know something about the
Quirinal, which our historical tradition connects with a Sabine popula-
tion. But the few tombs of the eighth century found there do not give us
any exact information about the date, extent and ethnic features of the
site. A deposit in a pit near the church of S. Maria della Vittoria with
pottery, bronzes and other objects discovered in 1875 may come froma
sanctuary of the Quirinal belonging to the eighth to the seventh century,
but is no more revealing. Even less is known about the other hills, such as
Mons Caelius and the Aventine. These are quarters of modern Rome
where one cannot choose to dig ad /ib. It is, however, symptomatic that
the Palatine-Forum zone (Fig. 24) remains central for modern archaeo-
logists, as it was for the Roman historians of the Augustan age. The
centre of power does indeed seem to have been there — and to have been
expressed, not in terms of rich tombs, but rather of progressive urban
organization. There are clear signs that in about 635-575 B.c. the Forum
was paved and transformed from a residential to a public place with
ceremonial buildings. The area of the Comitium seems to have been
ready to receive assemblies from 600 B.c.: a building in it has been

PALATINE HILL

Fig. 24. Central Rome: Location map.

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76 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Fig. 25. Fragment of bucchero bowl from the Regia with inscription ‘rex’ (‘king’). ¢. 530-510
B.C.?

hypothetically identified with the first Curia Hostilia, a place for the
senate. Ata slightly later stage (5 75—5 50 B.C.) the place included the Lapis
Niger (‘Black Stone’) — the so-called tomb of Romulus discovered in
1899. Whether a fragment of an Attic black figure vase with a representa-
tion of Hephaestus helps to prove that the place was the Volcanal (p. 5 79)
remains to be confirmed. Frank Brown, the excavator of the Regia, had
at first thought that, notwithstanding the name, it had been built for the
priest called rex sacrorum, that is the priest who took over some of the
sacred functions of the kings after the end of the monarchy. But in his
more recent pronouncements Brown has indicated the existence of
earlier strata of the Regia going back at least to the end of the seventh
century.!? The identification of the place is confirmed by a bucchero bow!
of disputed date within the sixth century with the word rex (Fig. 25).20 If
this was the place where the kings performed some of their duties, it was a
modest one. Temple buildings begin to appear in and around the Forum:
terracotta ornamental reliefs of such temples have been discovered. We
have no idea when the temple of the goddess Vesta was first built; its
circular structure has suggested a dubious link with the huts of primitive
Rome. There are also signs of religious activities on the Capitol from the
late seventh century (votive offerings) before the building of the great
temple (Fig. 42).

A zone which has proved of the highest interest is that of the present-
day church of Sant’ Omobono in the Forum Boarium. Exploration
which started about 1938 revealed an open-air cult-place of the late
seventh century, followed by a temple with terracotta decorations of
about 575 B.c. (Fig. 27). About 525 the temple was reconstructed on a

19 Brown 1974~5[E79}, 15-36; cf. above, p. 45f with Fig. 13a-d.
2 Guarducci 1972(B225}, 381~-4.

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SETTLEMENT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE 77

S
» c/o
S wusayy palo

Zorn

Ooi Lg \ er

aie
©

clED
Lu. e/

dodbo en srl

Fig. 26. The ‘Duenos vase’ (first half of the sixth century) from the Villino Hiffer votive
deposit on the Quirinal. The inscription seems to begin (in the extreme upper left) ‘Duenos
med feced’ (‘Duenos made me (or had me made)’) but has not been fully elucidated. From

Gjerstad 1953-73 [A56}, 111.163, figs. 102 and 104.

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78 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

VICVS IVGARIVS

0 10m
eae eee

Fig. 27a. Plan of the republican temples of Fortuna and Mater Matuta at Sant’Omobono in the
Forum Boarium, with outline of the archaic temple. After G. loppolo, RPAA 44 (1971), 6, fig. 2.

larger scale and on a new podium. After destruction at the end of the fifth
century a new higher podium supported wo temples which are certainly
to be identified with those of Fortuna and Mater Matuta, attributed by
tradition to Servius Tullius. The cult of these two goddesses may, of
course, be earlier?! and therefore due to Servius’ initiative; but the
archaeological evidence offers no support. Greek and Etruscan influ-
ences — indeed Greek myths — are evident in the decoration of these
temples and also in the offerings of the s#ips votiva (votive donation) with
their varieties of imported and local pottery (including Attic ware). One
significant item is an ivory lion bearing an Etruscan inscription with a
personal name (Fig. 28). By turning to such public buildings we get a
flavour of the organized social life and of the cultural contacts of sixth-
century Rome.

21 For the view that the original temple was dedicated to Fortuna see p. 4of.

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SETTLEMENT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE 79

Fig. 27b. Reconstruction of the archaic temple at Sant’ Omobono (second half of the sixth
century). From Enea nel Lazio 1981 [E25], 117.

Fig. 28. Inscription on ivory lion from Sant’Omobono (first half of sixth century). From M.
Pallottino, Stud. Etr. 47 (1979), 320.

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80 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Curiously enough, we are not yet quite certain how this city was
protected against attack. The prevailing opinion seems to be that the
oldest defences of Rome are represented by an earth wall (agger), five to
six metres high, accompanied by a ditch which one can follow for a
stretch round the Quirinal, Viminal and Esquiline. The earth wall would
have preceded the stone one, the murus lapideus, dated after the Gallic
invasion of 390 B.C., which is in the typical Grotta Oscura tufa (p. 332).
But there are three questions about the earth wall — one of date, another
of extent and the third of its relation to strange pieces of a different stone
wall (in the stone locally called cappellaccio). In the foundations of the
earth wall, the agger, one piece of an Attic vase has been found which can
be dated about 490-470 B.c. Some scholars — including E. Gjerstad?? —
are convinced that one piece of Greek pottery is enough to date the whole
of the earthwork. This would mean that the agger should be dated slightly
later than 470 B.c. But can we really date an earth wall on the basis of one
piece of Greek pottery? Secondly, even if we accept the earth wall as the
oldest type of fortification we are not yet certain that it crossed the valleys
and embraced the Caelius, the Palatine and the Capitol. In its turn the
suggestion that the sections of cappel/laccio wall might also be archaic and
meant to supplement the earth ramparts is based on dubious
chronological premises.

With or without a wall, the citizens of Rome seem to have been less
able or ready to display wealth in their tombs than some of the citizens of
Praeneste and even of Satricum, Tibur and the unknown little place
concealed under the modern name of Castel di Decima. Let us put the
question from the opposite angle. What could have provided some
members of the community of Praeneste with so much useless wealth to
display or to conceal in tombs? We can imagine robber barons of some
kind who terrorized their neighbours, controlled roads of communica-
tion and therefore trade, and extracted tributes or gifts from their
victims. It is not easy to explain why Praeneste should have been a
favoured place for such robber barons to live and die in, but after all
Praeneste was a natural fortress where booty could be safely preserved.
The possibility that this display of wealth was the result of a mixture of
band warfare and of monopolistic trade could be confirmed only by
literary evidence.

The archaeological evidence about Latium which we have briefly
considered gives us some idea of how individual places developed in the
direction of greater social differentiation, more solid housing, perma-
nent temples (in contrast to open-air sanctuaries), fortified defences,
drainage for agricultural and urban purposes and finally local and long-
range exchange of goods. The formation of military and economic élites

2 Gjerstad 1931[E1o4], 413-22; 1954[E105], 50-65; 1953—73[A56], 11.3 7fF; IV.35 2ff.

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SETTLEMENT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE 81

goes together with the acquisition of goods either by gift exchange or by
straight commercial transactions. Foreign influences are at work in the
style of objects — principally from Etruria and from Greek centres and
less commonly from Phoenicia and, perhaps through Phoenicia, from
other Near-Eastern countries (including Urartu). The presence of
foreign traders and artisans is a priori probable and in a few cases
epigraphically confirmed. Latin, Greek and Etruscan appear in Rome
and no doubt were spoken there. But the only official text (the Lapis
Niger (p. 11 n. 19)) is in Latin. So far there is no evidence that Etruscan
was ever the language of government in Rome. Writing appears in Rome
about 600 B.c. The existence of inscriptions is in itself an index of the rise
of self-conscious individuals and groups who are concerned to advertise
themselves in sanctuaries. Some of them are certainly foreigners like
Laris Velchaina of Caere who makes an offering to Mater Matuta of
Satricum and, probably, the companions of Publius Valerius in the same
place, to whom we shall return later. Mobility from place to place is,
indeed, generally suggested by the inscriptions: thus there is a Tite Latine
at Veii23 and a Kalaturus Phapenas at Caere (TLE 65), the Latin origins
of whom seem evident. A Rutile Hipukrates at Tarquinii (TLE 155) has
a name which is half Latin and half Greek (see below, p. 91). A member of
the gens Veturia, later to be found in Rome, is mentioned in a tomb of
Praeneste.”4

Even the epigraphical evidence is sufficient to reveal the existence of a
revolutionary development in the onomastic system of Central Italy
which happened between the eighth and the sixth centuries B.c. Latin,
Etruscan, Faliscan and Osco-Umbrian dialects slowly replaced the com-
bination of the personal name with the patronymic by a combination ofa
personal name (later often abbreviated and called praenomen in Latin)
with a name indicating membership of a clan, that is descent from a
common ancestor (the nomen gentile of the Romans). The implications of
this change for social life can of course be worked out only with reference
to the literary evidence. Once again the archaeological evidence, whether
accompanied or not by epigraphic evidence, refers us back to the literary
tradition. The same applies to the other big question raised by the
archaeological evidence. Weapons and armour found in tombs or exhib-
ited on reliefs indicate that Greek tactics in cavalry and infantry fighting
penetrated into Latium (and Etruria) in the seventh century B.c. (p. 35),
though double axes and chariots survived for ceremonial purposes if not
for actual fighting (Fig. 29). But archaeology alone cannot clarify the
modes, the limits and the social consequences of the hellenization of
warfare in Central Italy.

23 Palm 1952(B373], 57- 2 Torelli 1967[B265], 38-45; below, p. 285.

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82 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Fig. 29. Reconstruction of architectural frieze plaque (late sixth century?) from the Comitium
depicting pairs of riders; the left hand rider of the first two pairs each wear a helmet, carry a
round shield and brandish a double-axe or sword respectively. After Gjerstad 1953-73 [A56],
Iv.2, 483 fig. 147.1.

IV. THE DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF ROME

On three points the literary tradition can be immediately compared with
the archaeological evidence. The first is the date of the foundation of
Rome. Those who took Aeneas either as the founder or one of the near
ancestors of the founders of Rome were bound to date Rome not much
after the Trojan war. Such was apparently the choice of Ennius who
considered Ilia, Romulus’ mother, to be the daughter of Aeneas. He said
somewhere in the Aznals (154 Skutsch) ‘septingenti sunt paulo plus aut
minus anni, augusto augurio postquam incluta condita Roma est’.25 The
question, of course, is from where he started to count his 700 years. If, as
seems probable, he attributed these words to Camillus, he placed the
origins of Rome in the early eleventh century B.c. If so, it becomes still
more remarkable that Roman historians and antiquarians gave dates for
the foundation of Rome in the eighth century s.c.: Fabius Pictor in 748
B.c., Polybius apparently in 751, Atticus (Cicero’s friend), followed by
Varro, in 753, while the antiquarians who put together the Fasti
Capitolini chose 752. The most aberrant date among historians of Rome
is 728 B.C., preferred by Fabius’ contemporary Cincius Alimentus. The
date given by Timaeus, 814 8.C., was apparently dictated by the desire to
date the foundations of Carthage and Rome in the same year, that is, it
was determined by the dateattributed to the foundation of Carthage: it is,
however, in broad agreement with Roman dates. The Roman historians
were obviously starting from the date of the foundation of the Republic,
which was fixed by the list of the consuls (fast#) about 509-506 B.c. But
why did they attribute a period of 250 years to the monarchy? The length

28 ‘Seven hundred — a little fewer or a little more ~ are the years since far-famed Rome was
founded with august augury.’

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DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF ROME 83

of the individual reigns of the seven canonical kings of Rome is not
plausible (an average of 35 years for each king) and seems rather
artificially concocted. But we simply do not know why Roman tradition
chose to fix the date of the birth of Rome in the eighth century. It is easier
to explain why Rome was supposed to have a precise foundation date.
Though undoubtedly many cities were never founded and simply
evolved from one or more previous villages, ritual foundations of cities
were known to Etruscans, Greeks and Latins. The Romans, being
themselves founders of cities, considered themselves to have been rit-
ually founded. They may even not have been entirely wrong in their
surmise. The character of some of the basic Roman institutions (three
tribes, thirty curiae) presupposes the intervention of some organizing
mind at a very early stage. The man who organized Rome into three
tribes and thirty curiae may be called the founder of Rome. The trouble is
that we do not know who he was or when he lived.

Secondly, the literary tradition helps to determine at least certain
stages of the gradual extension of the Roman territory in its various
aspects. The Romans always made a distinction between the sacred
boundary of the city (wrbs) and the boundary of the ager Romanus
(territory of Rome). There is no reason to doubt that the distinction goes
back to the origins of the city. The oldest sacred boundary (pomerium) of
the urbs seems to have defined a settlement on the Palatine. Tacitus (Amn.
XII.24) gives some details about it, we do not know on what authority.
The Palatine pomerium may have coincided with the itinerary of the
Luperci who ran round the foot of the hill at their festival in February —
or it may have been deduced from it by some speculative antiquarian of
the late Republic. Tacitus also states that Forum and Capitol were
incorporated in the pomerium by Titus Tatius, in Romulus’ time, while
Livy 1.44.3 states that Quirinal, Viminal and perhaps Esquiline were
added by Servius Tullius. The tradition on the Mons Caelius is particu-
larly confusing: the first six kings are involved. There is no further
mention in our sources of later extensions of the pomerium until Sulla.
The pomerium came (gradually, one would think) to signify the zone
within which the head or heads of the state had civil, not military, power.
The centuriate assembly (comitia centuriata), which was a military assem-
bly, had to be summoned outside the pomerium in the Campus Martius.

It is very difficult to grasp the nature of the relation between the
pomerium and the Septimontium. In itself the Septimontium was a
festival, almost certainly including a procession, which involved sections
of the Palatine (Germalus, Palatium) and the Velia, the three sections of
the Esquiline (Oppius, Cispius and Fagutal), the Caelian and apparently
also the Subura valley betwen Cispius, Oppius and Velia (Festus 458;
476 L). The Septem Montes (‘Seven Hills’ — plus a valley!) are evidently

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84 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

not the seven traditional hills of Rome (Palatine, Quirinal, Viminal,
Esquiline, Caelius, Aventine, Capitol). The Septimontium implies a
special bond between three of the seven hills. The bond may have
developed before Rome extended to the seven traditional hills, but there
is no certainty that it did not develop ata later date inside the larger city.
Another ceremony which may or may not point to an otherwise
unattested stage in the development of Rome is that mysterious festival
of the Argei, the topography of which is accurately described by Varro
(Ling. v.45). Puppets called Argei were collected from 27 chapels scat-
tered throughout Rome with the exclusion of the Aventine and the
Capitol: they were thrown into the Tiber by the Vestal Virgins.

The dimensions of Rome inside the pomerium at the end of the
Republic have been calculated as 285 ha. Outside the pomerium there was
the ager Romanus which in its turn required yearly purifications. Some
information about these allows us to define what is for us the oldest
territory of the Roman state. The ceremony of the Ambarvalia (‘Around
the fields’) was carried out between the fifth and the sixth mile from the
Forum (Strabo v.3.2, p. 230c) and that of the Terminalia (“Boundary
rites’) at the sixth mile on the Via Laurentina (Ovid, Fast. 11.679). The
Fossae Cluiliae, which appear in various traditions as the border of Rome
on the Via Latina, were at five miles from the Forum (cf. Livy 1.23). An
approximate calculation gives about 150 km.? to the oldest known ager
Romanus. Naturally there were gains and losses: we know that the so-
called ‘septem pagi’ (‘seven cantons’) were a bone of contention with the
Etruscans. But at the end of the monarchy, when Rome had absorbed
more or less finally many neighbouring communities, such as Alba
Longa, Crustumerium, Nomentum, Collatia, Corniculum, Ficulea,
Cameria, etc., the Roman territory amounted to something like 800 km.?
It was either then or later distributed among sixteen ‘rustic’ tribes (as
opposed to four ‘urban’ tribes) which received their individual names
mainly from the leading clan (gens) owning land in the territory of each
(p- 179).

Thirdly, and finally, the literary evidence allows us to say something
more (but not much) about the ties which connected Rome with the
other Latin-speaking communities.26 From time immemorial Rome had
belonged to a Latin League. When this League was entirely under
Roman control, say in the late fourth century B.C., its centre was in the
temple of Iuppiter Latiaris on the Mons Albanus. The priests for the
annual festival of the League were called Cabenses Sacerdotes, Cabum
being reputed to be a village in the neighbourhood of Alba Longa, the
city of the ancestors of Romulus allegedly destroyed by the Romans

2 For a further discussion (with some differences of view) see Chap. 6.

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DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF ROME 85

Fig. 30. Denarixs of P. Accoleius Lariscolus (43 8.c.) with bust of Diana Nemorensis on the
obverse, triple cult statue of Diana Nemorensis on the reverse (RRC 486.1).

under Tullus Hostilius (Pliny, HN 111.64). As we mentioned (p. 65), the
membership of the League consisted traditionally of 30 populi or commu-
nities that were entitled to share the meat of the sacrifices and refrained
from fighting each other during the festival (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.49;
Macrob. Sat. 1.16.16). In addition to the temple of Iuppiter Latiaris, the
city of Lavinium played a special role in this League. ‘Sacra principia’
(the ‘sacred origins’) of the Romans, the gods Penates, were kept there
(ILS 5004; Varro, Ling. v.144). It is obvious that this later situation
preserved elements of earlier times when Rome was not yet the ruling
power in Latium. But we do not know whether in those earlier times the
League centred on the Mons Albanus pursued definite political aims; nor
do we know what was the exact relation between the sanctuary of the
Mons Albanus and other Latin sanctuaries, such as the one ‘ad caput
aquae Ferentinae’ (‘at the source of the Ferentine water’), apparently not
far away (Festus 276 L), or the other of Diana in a wood near Aricia (Fig.
30). The latter may have become an anti-Roman centre at the beginning
of the fifth century B.c. (this is at least what one can infer from an
inscription quoted by Cato Orig. fr. 58 P (p. 272f)). We have, however,
definite indications that under the two Tarquinii and Servius Tullius the
Romans succeeded for a time in controlling a large portion of Latium.
Servius Tullius was legitimately credited on the basis of a surviving
document with having established a Latin sanctuary of Diana just
outside the pomerium of Rome on the Aventine (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom.
v.26; Varro, Ling. v.43; ILS 4907), which was meant to attract the Latins
to Rome and perhaps represented a ‘zona franca’ where they could trade
under divine protection. Even at the time of the beginning of the
Republic, in their first treaty with Carthage (if Polybius 111.22 is correct in
his dating of it), the Romans claimed a hegemonic position in Latium (p.
253f). More precisely, the Romans divided the peoples of Latium into
three groups: those directly incorporated in the Roman state (not
mentioned as such); those who were ‘subject’ (Ardea, Antium, Circeii,
Tarracinaand perhaps Laviniumare singled out); and those who were not

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86 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

subject, but from whom the Carthaginians had to keep away all the same
(no names given). The young Republic was evidently not capable of
maintaining such claims for long. Not much later it had to makea treaty of
alliance with the Latins, the ‘Cassian treaty’ (foedus Cassianum), on a
different basis (p. 274). The text reported by Cato on the league centred in
the sanctuary of Diana near Aricia may well represent a stage between the
Roman claims in the treaty with Carthage and the more modest settlement
of the foedus Cassianum. In relation to individual Latin cities a variety of
settlements (with a corresponding variety of legal formulae) must have
developed during the expansion of Rome in Latium. Only a few traces
remain. The special position maintained by the small city of Gabii in
sacred law may go back to the monarchic period: the ager Gabinus
(‘Gabine territory’) held a middle position between the ager Romanus and
the ager peregrinus (‘alien territory’) (Varro, Ling. v.33). The Twelve
Tables imply pre-existing privileges for the mysterious communities of
Forctes and Sanates (about whom the later Romans remembered almost
nothing; cf. Festus 474 L).

We may end this section by saying that so far no archaeological
support has been found for the self-assured Roman tradition that the
Latins of Romulus soon combined with the Sabines of Titus Tatius.
Tradition also suggests, though not very consistently, that the Sabine
settlement was on the Quirinal, that Quirinus was a Sabine god (Varro,
Ling. v.74; but cf. Livy 1.33) and that ‘Quirites’ was a second name of the
Romans because of their Sabine component. The notion that Quirinus
was Sabine was so deep-rooted that in the third century B.c. the Roman
magistrates decided to call Quirina the tribe which was created to
incorporate the Sabine inhabitants of Reate, Amiternum and Nursia (p.
431). A few details of Roman religious institutions may support the notion
of a Sabine Quirinal hill. Those archaic priests, the Salii (p. 109), were
divided into two groups, one called Salii Palatini, the other Salii Collini
(where co//is (‘hill’) seems to stand for Quirinalis). There are traces of an
‘Old Capitol’ (Capitolium Vetus) on the Quirinal as opposed to the true
Capitolium (Varro, Ling. v.158; Mart. v.22 and vi1.73). One can go
further. The Luperci were divided into two groups, Fabiani and
Quinctiales. The division, unlike that of the Salii, is according to clans
(gentes), not places. But the gens Fabia is known to have had cultic
connexions with the Quirinal (Livy v.46.2; 52.3) and may therefore be
assumed to have represented the Sabines in the Lupercalia. The case,
however, for a Sabine settlement on the Quirinal is not very strong. It
cannot be reinforced by linguistic arguments. The Sabines spoke a
dialect of the Umbro-Oscan group which was clearly distinguished from
Latin. They came, no doubt, to influence Latin (as they themselves were
influenced in their speech by Latin). It is probable that such common

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THE ROMAN KINGS 87

words in Latin as /upus (‘wolf’), bos (‘bull/cow’), scrofa (‘sow’), rufus
(‘red’) (instead of the undocumented /ucus, vos, scroba and of the existing
alternative ruber) are a sign of Sabine infiltration. But Titus Tatius is not
needed to explain all this. In fact, if Quirinus and Quirinal had been
authentic Sabine words we would have them in the form Pirinus, Pirinal.
It is also very uncertain whether the terminological distinction between
montes and colles for the hills of Rome (Mons Palatinus but Collis
Quirinalis) should be treated as evidence for the co-existence of Latins
and Sabines on the hills of Rome. At the moment the primeval fusion of
Sabines and Latins must be considered a respectable traditional datum
for which there is no strong support (if it is a fact) nor obvious
explanation (if it is a legend).

Vv. THE ROMAN KINGS

Beyond this point we are left more or less alone with the literary
tradition, the only one which gives us a story of the Roman kings. This
tradition, which is for us chiefly represented by writers of the Caesarean
and Augustan period, Diodorus, Dionysius of Halicarnassus and Livy, is
remarkably consistent. It seems to go back in its essentials to the first
historians of Rome who wrote in Greek at the end of the third century
B.C., Q. Fabius Pictor and L. Cincius Alimentus (p. 5). The vital question
is from where these early annalists (as they were called) derived their
information about the monarchic period of Rome. Roman historians
consulted, or at least knew of, some documents for early Rome
(p. 13). We can add the treaty with the neighbouring Gabii written on a
shield (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.58.4; Festus 48 L) to the /ex sacra
concerning the temple of Diana on the Aventine (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom.
1v.26.5) and the treaty between Rome and Carthage (Polyb. m1.22)
already mentioned. But such texts were not numerous enough to repre-
sent an essential element of the tradition. Some may in fact have been
rediscovered (like the text of the first treaty with Carthage) when the
tradition had already been established in its essential features. In ad-
dition, certain existing sacred objects were deemed to be connected with
certain legends and therefore helped to keep them alive. Such were the
Pila Horatia (interpreted as the ‘Horatian Column’ or the ‘Horatian
Spears’) and the Tigillum Sororium (interpreted as the ‘Sister’s Beam’) in
the saga of the Horatii and Curiatii. But such objects seldom constituted
the origin of the legend: more often they presupposed it and therefore
they do not serve to explain it. All in all, documentary evidence seems to
have played a minor part in the formation of the tradition about Roman
origins. The Roman annalists of the late Republic were rather more
conscious of being the continuators of the annals of the pontiffs. We are

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88 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

told that the pontifex maximus published a list of events every year. This
pontifical registration was finally discontinued under the pontifex
maximus P. Mucius Scaevola ¢. 130 B.c. and was edited in eighty books at
an uncertain date which can hardly be later than Augustus (p. 6f). We
are also told that the Pontifical Chronicle in its edited form contained
stories about the origins of Rome (which are quoted by the anonymous
Origo gentis Romanae and by the SHA Tac. 1.1). If we accept this informa-
tion as authentic, we must also accept the consequence that the Pontifical
Chronicle devoted at least four of its eighty books to the Alban prehis-
tory of Rome. As no one can believe that the Alban pontiffs transferred
their historical registrations to Rome when Alba disappeared, we have to
assume that somebody (perhaps even the editor of the Pontifical
Chronicle in eighty books himself) added the prehistory of Rome to the
later events in order to make the Chronicle more interesting. This is only
the most conspicuous element of uncertainty in a Chronicle about which
almost everything else is uncertain (p. 2of). We do not know when it was
started, we have very little information about what it contained, but
above all we do not know how much it was really used by the historical
annalists of the late Republic, some of whom, if not all, wrote before the
pontifical registrations were collected in eighty books. In any case the
annalistic form which the pontiffs used for their registrations is based on
the list of the Roman consuls: the monarchic section looks like a later
addition. The Pontifical Chronicle is hardly an answer to the question as
to where the historians of the late Republic found their stories about
early Rome. Nor are we made much wiser by our scanty information
about the songs (carmina) the ancient Romans sang, while banqueting, in
praise of their ancestors. These songs were no longer sung at the time of
Cato the Censor.?’ It is therefore not surprising that our sources are
divided on the point whether the carmina had been sung by adults or
children. Dionysius (Ant. Rom. 1.79.10; v111.62) seems to indicate Romu-
lus and Coriolanus as specific subjects for such carmina. Acquaintance
with other cultures which have preserved their ‘historical’ ballads better
does not encourage us to take them as scrupulous records of events.
Besides, we are struck by the fact that not much in the tradition about
early Rome looks ‘poetic’. The exception is represented by some of the
stories about Romulus, the fight between Horatii and Curiatii and the
rape of Lucretia (a counterpart to the rape of the Sabine women) at the
end of the monarchy. But even for these ‘poetic’ episodes a poetic source
is not the most obvious origin. Livy (1.24.1) was uncertain whether the
Horatii or the Curiatii represented the Romans in the famous fight. A
ballad would not have left this in doubt. The importance of the carmina

2 Cic. Brut. 75; Tuse. 1v.3; Varro, De Vita p.R. 1 ap. Non. p. 107L.

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THE ROMAN KINGS 89

(which have played a conspicuous role in modern discussions on early
Rome from B.G. Niebuhr to G. De Sanctis) is as questionable as the
importance of the Pontifical Chronicle.

Greek historians, as we have already implied, began to look at Rome in
the late fifth century B.c., if not earlier. The Roman historians of later
centuries could and did read them. But the first Greek historian to give an
organized account of early Rome was the Sicilian Timaeus, writing in
Athens in the first part of the third century B.c. He was in no better
position to know about the eighth to sixth centuries B.c. than the
Romans were two generations later. It would be surprising if Timaeus
revealed to the Romans something they did not know, though no doubt
he taught them how to write history in Greek. It is therefore not
surprising to hear from Plutarch (Rom.3) that Fabius Pictor followed the
Greek Diocles of Peparethus in his account of the foundation of Rome.
Assuming that Plutarch is correct about the priority of Diocles, this
simply means that Diocles registered the tradition prevailing in Rome
itself in a way Fabius found acceptable. Accounts of Roman history by
Greek historians must not, however, be confused with occasional allu-
sions to Rome in the chronicles of neighbouring cities. Roman historians
became aware that some of the chronicles of neighbours of Rome (both
Greek and Etruscan) contained references to Roman events which had
affected them. Some writers of Cumae in Campania told stories about the
intervention in Latium by a tyrant of Cumae at the end of the sixth
century (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. vur.3ff; cf. Ath. x11.5 28d). Etruscan annals
or histories are mentioned by Pliny, HN 11.140 and by Censorinus, DN
17.6. Etruscan evidence was tapped by the Emperor Claudius (ILS 212)
and his near contemporary Verrius Flaccus (Festus 38 L), perhaps
through translations into Latin. It contained some information about the
kings of Rome. This acquaintance, to judge from Dionysius and Clau-
dius, started late and was very limited. The neighbours of Rome did not
supply much material to the Roman tradition.

We have finally to consider the contribution which clan traditions may
have made to the history of early Rome. The Roman aristocratic gentes
certainly preserved memories and records of their eminent ancestors.
The discovery of the epigraphic elogia Tarquiniensia (p. 300) proved that in
the Augustan age Etruscan aristocratic families also preserved recollec-
tions of their own ancestors. Some of these Etruscan aristocrats had by
then been mingling with Roman aristocrats for centuries. Once again,
however, we are disappointed in our expectations about the monarchic
period. With the exception of some information about Mastarna (see
below) there is nothing in what the Romans knew or thought they knew
about their kings which bears the mark of an Etruscan aristocratic
source. More unexpectedly, the Roman gentes which played a leading part

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go 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

in the Republic had little to say about the monarchic period and claimed
almost no role in it for themselves. The Fabii who believed themselves to
be as old as Romulus and had some right to think so, as the existence of
the Luperci Fabiani shows, had nothing to say about their ancestors
under the kings. The Valerii thought that they had come to Rome from
the Sabine countryside with Titus Tatius, but did not make their own
first big public appearance until the foundation of the Republic, that is,
with the consulate of P. Valerius Poplicola. The other great clan, the
Claudii, firmly maintained, with the probability of being correct, that
they had migrated to Rome after the fall of the monarchy about 504 B.c.
These great clans either did not have or chose not to have any
responsibility for the events of the monarchy. The only exception are the
Marcii who were proud of their namesake King Ancus Marcius and put
him and his uncle Numa Pompilius on the coins they minted for the
Roman state in the first century B.c. Yet even in the case of the Marcii
there is no sign that they helped substantially to shape the vulgate about
Numa and Ancus Marcius. On the whole the events and individuals of
the monarchic period are outside the main stream of the Roman aristo-
cratic tradition. A Iulius was said to have announced Romulus’ ascent to
heaven (apotheosis), a Valerius was credited with the position of the first
fetialis or priest in charge of war and peace. This is not much. We may
aptly add at this point that in the late Republica list was made of the noble
families which claimed to be of Trojan origin and to have moved from
Alba to Rome under the first three kings. Altogether we must admit that
we do not yet know how the Roman tradition about the monarchic
period took shape.

This is why we cannot be sure about anything the tradition tells us of
the first three successors of Romulus (Numa Pompilius, Tullus
Hostilius, Ancus Marcius). We also have great difficulty in making up
our minds about the events of the last (?) three kings (the two Tarquinii
and, between them, Servius Tullius) who, being nearer to the foundation
of the Republic, had a better chance of being remembered correctly. The
end of the monarchy in Rome, like the beginning of the monarchy
among the ancient Hebrews, may in itself have been transformed beyond
recognition by unreliable details, yet it marks a new era in historio-
graphical terms: better chronology and constitutional continuity make
tradition more reliable. In any case the monarchy did end.

However, the tradition about the Sabine Numa Pompilius, the Latin
Tullus Hostilius and the partly Sabine Ancus Marcius cannot have been
entirely invented. Only the first is a coherent figure. He is represented as
the creator of the religious institutions of Rome (including at least part of
the famines, the Salii, the Vestals, the pontifices and the calendar). The
second is a warrior who, however improbably, allowed a war between
Rome and Alba Longa to be turned into a contest between three Roman

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THE ROMAN KINGS 91

and three Alban brothers (the Horatii and Curiatii). The third is a
peaceful man who conquered and destroyed the neighbouring towns of
Politorium, Tellenae and Ficana, annexed the Janiculum hill to the city,
planted a colony at Ostia and established the first prison (carcer) in the
city. The coherence of Numa and the incoherence of his successors are
not explained by taking them as gods or heroes. It is not altogether
impossible that the reform of the calendar goes back to a king Numa and
that the elimination (if not the total destruction) of Alba as a Latin power
happened under a Tullus. An expansion towards Ostia under Ancus
Marcius is credible even if the permanent settlement at Ostia is not earlier
than the fourth century B.c. and Politorium, if properly identified with
the settlement near Castel di Decima, cannot have been destroyed so
early.

L. Tarquinius nicknamed Priscus, Servius Tullius and L. Tarquinius
nicknamed Superbus are placed in a more recognizable historical con-
text, which is Greco-Etruscan. Tradition has it that Tarquinius Priscus
was the son of the Corinthian Demaratus who had emigrated to Etruria
and married in Tarquinii. The arrival and fortunes of Demaratus’ son in
Rome look likely enough in relation to what we know from elsewhere
about aristocrats trying their luck in neighbouring cities. Emigration of
Greeks to Etruria is equally plausible. An archaic inscription of
Tarquinii (TLE 155) referring to ‘Rutile Hipukrates’ (Rutilus Hippo-
crates, a combination of a Latin and of a Greek name in Etruscan dress)
opens up speculations about a man of Greek origin who may have
reached Tarquinii after having passed through Rome, whereas
Tarquinius, the son of a Greek, reached Rome through Tarquinii. The
colourful wife of Tarquinius, Tanaquil, whom tradition presents as an
expert in Etruscan lore, seems plausible in that society of adventurers. It
is another matter when it comes to believing that Tarquinius doubled the
Roman cavalry or that he was murdered by a faction of the sons of Ancus
Marcius and succeeded by his protégé Servius Tullius. In some cases
tradition wavered between the two Tarquins, for instance about the
foundation of the tripartite temple which established the supremacy of
the new (?) triad Iuppiter-Iuno-Minerva on the Capitol. There seems to
be some support for the tradition that under both Tarquinii Rome
controlled most of the Latins and at least some of the Etruscans.
Admittedly Livy is far more reticent on this matter than Dionysius of
Halicarnassus. But the first treaty with Carthage seems to confirm what
Dionysius claims. Furthermore, an appendix to Hesiod’s Theogony states
that Latins ruled over the Etruscans (I. 1015). It is not easy to find another
situation to which this strange statement would apply.

Servius Tullius, a Latin king and reformer thrown in between two

% See further p. 253f.

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92 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Etruscans, is too improbable a figure to have been invented. His name
suggested (we do not know how early) a tale of servile origins and of
special luck (fortuna). Some of his real achievements increased his qualifi-
cations for being treated as a second Romulus. Hence his twofold aspect
~ of an Italic mythical figure and ofa Greek political reformer. One of the
best-documented facts of his reign seems to be the foundation of a
sanctuary of Diana on the Aventine as a meeting place with the other
Latins. The sanctuary (originally around an altar (ara)) preserved the text
of a pact between Servius and the Latins (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.26).
Furthermore, the /ex arae Dianae in Aventino (‘statute of the altar of Diana
on the Aventine’) became the model for the regulations of later sanctua-
ties. The cult statue of this sanctuary has been shown to go back to a
sixth-century type, exactly as stated by Strabo Iv.1.5, p. 180c, who
derives it from Massalia (Fig. 31; cf. p. 267).

Above all, tradition makes Servius Tullius the great reformer who
superimposed on the three tribes and thirty curiae of the Romulean order
a new division of the citizens into five c/asses and 193 or 194 centuries
according to wealth. Military obligations were fixed on the new basis.
The rather simple army of Romulus, divided into a uniform cavalry anda
uniform infantry, tradition tells us, was supposedly replaced by an army
of the hoplitic type in which there were various kinds of infantry soldiers
and possibly two types of cavalrymen, one with two horses and the other
with one (Granius Licinianus, p. 2 Flemisch). This is clearly what existed
in Rome from the fourth century onwards. The general assembly of the
Romans by curiae, though not by then abolished, was considered less
important than the new assembly according to c/asses: juniors and seniors
of each ‘class’ were summoned to approve laws and to act as an appeal
tribunal in the so-called centuriate assembly (comitia centuriata). As the
first class included 4o centuries of juniors and 40 centuries of seniors out
of 193 or 194 centuries of the whole organization, and each centuria had
one vote, Servius Tullius reputedly put the state in the hands of the
wealthy. Tradition also recounts that Servius Tullius introduced coinage

Fig. 31. Denarius of L. Hostilius Saserna (48 B.c.) depicting the archaic cult statue of Artemis
at Massalia (RRC 448.3).

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THE ROMAN KINGS 93

(a piece of information already available to Timaeus) and took a census of
the population; he extended the urban territory of Rome and divided it
into four quarters; he completed its fortification — the Servian walls — and
divided the territory of the Roman state outside the urban zone into local
departments or tribes.

Simple reflection shows that what was in fact the centuriate organiza-
tion of the middle Republic cannot be retrojected wholesale into the sixth
century B.c. Coinage of the type attributed to Servius was perhaps known
at Gela in Sicily more or less at the time in which Servius is supposed to
have lived,29 but Rome — not alone in this — seems to have done without
coins until the third century B.c. In the same way most of the archaeo-
logical evidence we can safely date takes us down to the fourth century
B.C. for the oldest circuit of the Roman walls. However, we shall see that
there are indications that a simpler form of the centuriate organization
existed in the sixth century. Traces of a more primitive system of
fortifications have also been identified.

The great reforming king Servius Tullius may indeed have been
murdered, as tradition has it, by his daughter Tullia and her husband L.
Tarquinius Superbus, either a son or a grandson of Tarquinius Priscus.
However embellished by successive layers of popular and literary elabo-
ration, the career of Tarquinius Superbus makes sense in the context of
sixth-century tyranny. The transition from Servius Tullius to Tarquinius
Superbus reminds us of the transition at Athens from Solon to
Pisistratus. There may even be some truth in the story of how Tarquinius
managed to become master of Gabii with the co-operation of one of his
sons who posed as an enemy of his father and was accepted, according to
custom, by the men of Gabiias their military leader. The text of the treaty
between Gabii and Rome was dated to the reign of Tarquinius by ancient
scholars who were still able to read it (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.58).

The prevailing account of the end of the monarchy had difficulty in
defining the attitude of the neighbouring powers to the overthrow of the
Tarquinii. These powers included Aristodemus, the Greek tyrant of
Cumae; the Latin League, which saw its chance of recovering its freedom
from Rome; and finally those Etruscan cities which took no pleasure in
the expansion of Rome, albeit under Etruscan kings. The annalistic
tradition presented Porsenna, the sovereign of Clusium, as the champion
of those Etruscans who would have liked Tarquinius back in Rome (p.
257f). According to this tradition the bravery of Horatius Cocles, Mucius
Scaevola and Cloelia persuaded Porsenna to abandon the enterprise. He
then turned against the Latins and was finally defeated at the battle of
Aricia by the joint forces of the Latin League and of Aristodemus. But

29 Ampolo 1974[B196], 382-8. On the Timaeus passage see further p. 417.

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94 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

historians of the first century a.p. discovered somewhere, perhaps in
Etruscan sources, that Porsenna had actually taken Rome and imposed
humiliating conditions (Tac. Hést. 11.72; Pliny, HN xxxiv.139).
Porsenna, however, did not bring back the Tarquinii and obviously did
not last long as master of Rome. His final defeat, resulting from the
intervention of Aristodemus, seems to have been registered in the
chronicles of Cumae. The probability that Porsenna was ultimately
eliminated by the alliance of the Latins with Aristodemus throws an
entirely different light on the end of the monarchy in Rome. It may still
be true (as Roman tradition says) that a conspiracy of the Roman
aristocrats (of which L. Iunius Brutus and L. Tarquinius Collatinus, two
relatives of the king, are said to have been the leaders) threw Tarquinius
out. But Porsenna’s army must have imposed a new Etruscan ruler on
Rome. Whether the Romans had time to elect their first consuls before
the arrival of Porsenna becomes of course doubtful. The Romans
simplified the process of the installation of the Republic in order to
obliterate the shame of having been liberated from Porsenna by the joint
forces of the other Latins and of Aristodemus of Cumae.

The dedication of the temple of luppiter on the Capitol by the consul
M. Horatius Pulvillus is the first act of the new republican government
we can consider certain. It was already a pillar of Roman chronology at
the end of the fourth century B.c., as an inscription by Cn. Flavius quoted
by Pliny (HN xxxuI1. 19; p. 627 n. 13) shows. With the fluctuation of a few
years, due to the uncertainty of the consular list in its very beginning, it
tells us that there were yearly ruling magistrates in Rome (later generally
known as consuls) about 509-507 B.c. This is, approximately, the date of
the end of the monarchy. Porsenna (or his nominee) is very probably
only the last of a series of kings of Rome which the annalistic tradition did
not register, while it includes a King Romulus who is probably an
entirely mythical figure. Titus Tatius may well have been an authentic
monarch who was later inserted into the mythical period of Romulus as
co-regent. But the most interesting name we must now consider as a
possibly forgotten monarch of Rome is that of Mastarna.

In the Roman tradition he appears first in a speech of the Emperor
Claudius (ILS 212), where he is considered identical with Servius
Tullius. In the Etruscan tradition Mastarna (or Macstrna) appears much
earlier in a series of scenes painted and inscribed in the Frangois tomb of
Vulci which are most usually dated in the fourth or third century B.c.
(Fig. 32). Mastarna liberates Caeles Vibenna, while Aulus Vibenna kills a
man apparently from Falerii, and Marcus Camillus (or Camitilius;
“Camitlnas’ in the inscription) kills a Gnaeus Tarquinius Romanus (?)
(‘Rumach’). Caeles and Aulus Vibenna reappear elsewhere as ‘condot-
tieri’: they are sometimes associated with Romulus (Varro, Ling. v.46;

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96 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Festus 38 L); and the name of Mons Caelius in Rome was deemed to
honour Caeles Vibenna. The painting of Vulci seems to presuppose some
connexion of the brothers Vibenna with the Tarquinii, because one of
the men in the scene is a Tarquinius from Rome. The painting represents
some historical episode involving several cities, but perhaps centred in
Vulci. Gnaeus Tarquinius is not necessarily a king of Rome (the two
traditional kings were both called Lucius): he too may have been a
‘condottiere’, as one of the sons of Tarquinius Superbus is said to have
been. The historicity of Aulus Vibenna, and therefore of the group to
which he belonged, was confirmed by the discovery ofa bucchero vase in
Veii of the sixth century B.c. inscribed with the name Avile Vipiiennas.*
Mastarna (Macstrna) is not an ordinary Etruscan name. It seems to be an
Etruscan form of the Latin magister. Just as the Romans turned
‘Lucumon’, the Etruscan word for king (/avxume), into a personal name,
so the Etruscans may have taken magister to be a personal name. Mastarna
would therefore be another band chief (= magister populi?) who, after
having operated under Caelius Vibenna in various cities, migrated to
Rome, according to the Etruscan tradition followed by Claudius. It is left
to us to decide whether we want to follow Claudius’ sources in identify-
ing Mastarna with Servius Tullius. Any Roman historian or Etruscan
historian under the influence of the tradition of the seven kings of Rome
was compelled to identify Mastarna with one of these kings. But we are
under no such obligation. The adventurous companion of the brothers
Vibenna is so different from the traditional Servius Tullius that it appears
prudent to keep the two apart. Mastarna may well have becomea ruler in
Rome in the age of the Tarquinii. We may consequently ask ourselves
whether Aulus and Caeles Vibenna, too, ruled Rome for a short period.
There was an obscure tradition about aman Olus who supposedly gave his
name to the Capitol, interpreted as caput O/i (‘head of Olus’). This Olus
was a king according to the Chronogr.a. 354. Aulus and Olus are the same
name, and the tradition may have had Aulus Vibenna in mind because
Olus is called ‘Vulcentanus’ (‘of Vulci’) by Arnobius, Adv. Nat. v1.7.

VI. THE SOCIAL, POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS STRUCTURES OF
THE REGAL PERIOD

Not everyone could claim to bea king (rex) in Rome. Royalty had sacred
aspects, it was proclaimed with the consent of the gods (énauguratio) and
was accompanied by religious performances about which we know very
little. The importance of these sacred functions explains why in a sense
monarchy was never abolished in Rome. Even when yearly magistrates

% Pallottino 1939[B245], 455—7-

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SOCIAL, POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS STRUCTURES 97

ISTETEPAIPOPLIOSIOVALESIOS1
VODALE $AAAMAPT

Fig. 33. ‘Publius Valerius’ inscription from Satricum (¢. 500 B.c.?).

had replaced the rex, a life rex bearing the title of rex sacrorum or
sacrificulus remained in the old royal house (Regia) to perform religious
acts while being debarred from the ordinary political career (p. G1of). He
was later displaced from the Regia, but not deprived of all his functions,
by the pontifex maximus. Kingship was not hereditary, and its priestly
functions were subordinated to its military aspect. As far as we can judge,
the majority of the kings of Rome were band chiefs, not necessarily of
Roman, or even of Latin, extraction, who persuaded or coerced the local
aristocracy to accept their rule. There was probably only a thin dividing
line between the band chief called in to help an existing rex and a band
chief called in to replace him and therefore to rule in his stead. Tradition
seems to imply that Tarquinius Superbus had not been properly
inducted. Others — such as Mastarna (if he is not identical with Servius
Tullius), Aulus Vibenna and Porsenna — may never have obtained full
religious confirmation. Such band chiefs might try their luck in more
than one city. We saw a Gnaeus Tarquinius (explicitly called Roman)
active in Etruria, perhaps at Vulci, while Mastarna and the two Vibennas
are on record both in Vulci and in Rome: Aulus Vibenna also reappears
in Veii. An epigraphical confirmation of this situation has now been
provided for the period around 500 B.c. by the so-called Lapis
Satricanus,>! a dedication in Satricum by the followers of a Publius
Valerius (Fig. 33). The text says:

. . jei steterai Popliosio Valesiosio
suodales Mamartei

It is tempting to recognize in this Publius Valerius the P. Valerius
Poplicola who, according to Roman tradition, played a part in the
foundation of the Roman Republic and even replaced the original leaders
Brutus and Collatinus in consolidating it. This inscription is not
complete, and we have the choice between referring the word ‘sodales’
either to Publius Valerius (in the genitive) or to the god Mamers (in the
dative). In the former interpretation we have a dedication by the ‘sodales’

3 Stibbe et al. 1980[B263].

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98 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

(companions) of Publius Valerius to the god Mamers (Mars). In the latter
interpretation (which assumes a word like ‘socii’ in the lacuna at the
beginning) the followers (‘socii’) of Publius Valerius, who were also
members (‘sodales’) of a religious corporation for the cult of Mars, made
a dedication to another god or goddess (possibly Mater Matuta, in whose
precincts the inscription was found). We prefer the former interpret-
ation, but the ultimate meaning is not very different in either version:
followers of Publius Valerius appear in a prominent position, and
possibly with military connotations, at Satricum. If the identification of
Publius Valerius happens to be correct we must face the paradox that a
band chief in Satricum contributed to the introduction of the new
republican regime at Rome. This early republican regime was neither
able nor perhaps anxious to avoid interference from band chiefs. The
best Roman tradition has it that the band chief Attus Clausus, the
founder of the fortunes of the clan of the Claudii, migrated with his
retinue to Rome from the Sabine country just in time to reinforce the still
shaky new Republic. (Later tradition made the Claudii come to Rome
under Romulus: what else could one expect from the ancestors of the
future Claudian emperors?) The Fabii still acted as band chiefs in a
famous private war with the Etruscans a few decades after the foundation
of the Republic (p. 297). Their defeat may have saved Rome from a
Fabian monarchy. Later, in about 460 B.c., the Sabine chieftain Appius
Herdonius managed to occupy the Capitol by a surprise attack (p. 286).
By ousting him, with the help of the Latins, the Romans spared
themselves another Sabine king.

The phenomenon of the band chiefs which tradition, reasonably
enough, had some difficulty in reconciling with the rigid and schematic
structure of the ‘Romulean’ state must be connected with one of the most
striking features of Central Italian society of the eighth to sixth centuries
B.C., the rise of the Zentes. As we have mentioned, epigraphical evidence
allows us to perceive the growth of a peculiar onomastic system whereby
a person (most often a man) is designated by two names, the personal
name (in Rome, praenomen) and the name of the clan to which he belonged
(in Rome, nomen gentile). Even if formally the nomen gentile might appear as
an ordinary patronymic (Servius Tullius = Servius son of Tullus), it was
taken to indicate membership of a wider group than the nuclear family.
The nomen gentile was displayed in identical form not only by all the
theoretical descendants of acommon ancestor, but also by certain clients
who had joined the group in a subordinate position and apparently
without blood relationship. The emigration of the Claudii is paradig-
matic of what a gens could do: the clients of the gens Claudia obtained land
in Rome through the agency of their band chief Attus Clausus. If our
evidence is not misleading, there was a close relationship between bands

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SOCIAL, POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS STRUCTURES 99

(sodales), clients and gentes. The prestige and attraction of a band chief
would make the fortunes of a gens: the band chief would both establish the
reputation of his kin and reward his clients with land, booty and
employment. It is not impossible that the gens as an institution acquired
consistency before the urban development of the archaic age, as P.
Bonfante*? and others have assumed. But we see the dual onomastic
system characteristic of the gens gaining strength concurrently with the
urbanization of Central Italy. In Rome it is interesting to observe that
only Romulus, among the kings, is without the omen gentile. The other
point worth noticing is that as soon as the system of organization by gentes
gathered momentum (we do not know from what centre), it spread
through all social classes. There is no firm evidence to show that in Rome
only the aristocracy was organized by gentes. Even less do we know of a
time in which the gentes could be identified with that special type of
hereditary aristocracy which was known as the patriciate. The isolated
polemical utterance attributed in Livy to his patrician opponents by a
plebeian of the fourth century B.c., ‘vos (patricios) solos gentem habere’
(‘that you (patricians) alone have a clan’) (Livy x.8. 9), cannot be turned
into a statement of fact, ‘plebeii gentes non habent’ (‘plebeians do not
have clans’), as modern students are apt to do. At best the sentence
represents Livy’s notion of archaic Roman society. In societies where the
powerful become more powerful by asserting kinship ties and annexing
volunteers, the weaker groups may well try to react by asserting in their
turn kinship solidarity in the form of gentilicial ties. Later on the reaction
of the weaker took the form of the organization of the plebs.
Correspondingly, there is no evidence that land or other ordinary
property was owned by the gens, though the gens obtained some second-
ary rights of inheritance in the absence of closer relatives. We hear (which
is a different matter) of gentilician cemeteries and cults — also of delibera-
tions by a gens with a view to consolidating a common style of life. But we
do not know who summoned the genéiles (members of a gens) to an
assembly. The leader of a clan (princeps gentis), unless one means a band
chief like Publius Valerius or Attus Clausus, is a modern fiction.
Together with the notion of clan ownership any illusion of catching
Roman private property én statu nascendi must be abandoned. Existence of
private landownership and instability of the upper class must have been
connected. The band chiefs and their followers gained or lost land held as
private property. Other people found an incentive to move from city to
city in trade and professional activities. We know of Etruscan (and
perhaps Greek) artists in archaic Rome. The onomastic evidence seems
to confirm this social mobility. We have already noted Demaratus from

32 Bonfante 1925—33[G177], 1.5ff; vt.37ff; 1926[G178], 18ff; 1958[G179], 67ff.

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100 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Corinth, Rutile Hipukrates of Tarquinii, Tite Latine in Etruscan Veii
and a Kalaturus Phapenas (Calator Fabius?) at Caere (p. 81). We also have
evidence of long-standing connexions of the Claudii with Etruria, and
even with Etruscan elements in Corsica.33 The growth of powerful gentes
must therefore have resulted in inequality in land holdings. This seems to
be confirmed by the names of the sixteen oldest tribes (or divisions) of the
Roman territory which almost all bear gentilician names (Pollia, Fabia,
Claudia, etc.). The families of a specific gens, together with their clientes,
evidently owned a great deal of land in the tribal district bearing its name.
Nothing, however, suggests that the territory of the tribe had been the
collective property of a gens.

There was in Rome the notion that two éagera of land (= 5047 m.?)
represented the heredium (Varro, Rast. 1.10.2; Pliny, HN xvi11.7); Romu-
lus was supposed to have given two éxgera to each citizen, and later two
ingera were the smallest portion of land given to each settler at the
foundation of a Roman colony (Livy vut.21.11 for Anxur (Tarracina)).
Two iagera may have been enough to feed one man in the rather primitive
conditions of archaic Italian agriculture; they would not keep a family.
The notion that the standard land holding was two éagera (and therefore
represented the heredium, the land one leaves to one’s children) may be a
survival from the period in which stock-raising on communal land (ager
publicus) was the main activity; alternatively, it may indicate the mini-
mum of agricultural land which one had the moral obligation to transmit
to one’s children. Some ancient lawyers who were puzzled by the word
heredium suggested that heredium was the hortus, the kitchen-garden, as
opposed to agricultural land (Pliny, HIN x1x.50), but this does not solve
the problem. There is no firm evidence that in Rome private land-
property was ever limited to two éagera or that it was inalienable. When
the two sagera appear as the basis of colonial distribution of land, we have
no evidence to prove that the colonist was prevented from purchasing
and owning more land; in any case he must have had the use of extra land
if he had a family.

Archaic Rome clearly had its aristocrats, like any other city of Latium
or Etruria, though perhaps not so flamboyant. These aristocrats in-
scribed their names (personal or genti/e) on their valuables and exchanged
gifts, though the most ancient and famous of the gift inscriptions, the
Fibula Praenestina with its inscription ‘Manius made me for Numerius’,
is now under suspicion of being a nineteenth-century forgery (p. 73). On
one jar we read of toasts men proposed to women (Fig. 34), probably
their wives, who, like Etruscan wives, but unlike Greek wives, took part
in symposia. Their lives were made pleasant and interesting by foreign-

33 J. Heurgon in Jehasse and Jehasse 1973[B347], 551- ¥ Colonna 1980[B208], 5 1ff.

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SOCIAL, POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS STRUCTURES 101

\
b

Ac
1

NYRT FBT
ait |

Fig. 34. Inscription on impasto jar from Osteria dell’ Osa tom) 115 (¢. 630 B.c.?). The
inscription wishes good health to Tita (‘salvetod Tita’). From Colonna 1980 [B208], 51 fig. t.

ers who visited Rome and other cities and perhaps settled there as
traders, artisans and artists. Slowly it must have become evident that the
newcomers, especially Greeks, brought with them new social and reli-
gious notions. It would be interesting to know how the idea of associ-
ations of artisans (collegia opificum) developed in Rome. The creation of
the most ancient co//egia was attributed to Numa (Plut. Nam. 17.1—4; cf.
Pliny, HN xxxiv.1; xxxv.46). Collegia are presupposed by the Twelve
Tables. They must have been one of the elements which prepared the
way for the emergence of a unified plebs.

The question is when and how inequality in Rome hardened into the
distinction between patricians and plebeians: a subordinate question is
the relation between plebeians and clients. Ifan answer to both questions
were possible it would help us to make up our minds on Servius Tullius’
reforms and on the limits of the ‘Hellenization’ of Roman institutions
under the last kings. It was a well-established opinion in the first century
B.c. that Romulus himself had introduced the distinction between patri-
cians and plebeians (Cic. Rep. 11.23; Dion. Hal. Ant. Row. 11.8). There is
furthermore some basis in ancient texts (prominently in Dion. Hal. Ant.
Rom. 11.9) for the theory most clearly formulated by Th. Mommsen>> that
the plebeians were originally the clients of the patricians. Our tradition is
more uncertain about the distinction within the patriciate between
‘greater’ and ‘lesser’ clans (masores gentes and minores gentes) which was
remembered, but had lost significance, during the late Republic. Only
the gens Papiria is mentioned as having belonged to the minores gentes, and
even that was debatable (Cic. Fam. 1x.21; cf. Suet. Ag. 1.2). The creation
of the minores gentes was attributed either to Tarquinius Priscus (Cic. Rep.
11.35; Livy 1.35.6) or — in one of the dissenting opinions about archaic

35 Mommsen 1859[Gr15], 322-79.

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102 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Rome which are characteristic of Tacitus (Amn. x1.25) — to the founders
of the Republic. Now it is evident that the basic structures of Roman
society — suchas the tribes, the cariae and the army (cavalry included) — do
not imply the separation of patricians and plebeians. Nor is it implied in
the reforms of Servius Tullius. The notion that the cavalry was filled by
the patricians is a modern one for which there is no unambiguous ancient
evidence either in the monarchic or in the republican period. The
existence of (apparently) one century of procum patricium (? ‘leading
patricians’) in the comitia centuriata of the late Republic tells us something
about the vestigial powers of the patricians at the time when the centuries
of the comitia centuriata were no longer identical with the centuries of the
real army, but not about the army itself. The Roman kings do not bear
names of gentes which were considered patrician in later times; and the
same applies to the names of Roman hills (e.g. Caelius) connected with
the names of geates. Even in the first years of the Republic some of the
consuls bear genti/e names which are not patrician, including Iunius
Brutus.

For centuries the separation between patricians and plebeians was
clear-cut in the priesthoods and in the senate (originally the council of the
kings). The three maiores famines (of Iuppiter, Mars and Quirinus), the
Salii, the pontifices, but apparently not the Vestals, were all uniformly and
exclusively patrician until the reforms of the fourth century B.c. As for
the senate, even in the late Republic the patrician senators were the only
ones entitled to elect the interrex — or rather the successive interreges
necessary to fill the gap between two kings — and to give their consent
(auctoritas patrum) to the laws passed by the comitia. The formula
auctoritas patrum implies that the patrician senators alone were called
patres. Another formula, ‘qui patres quique conscripti’ (‘those who are
patresand those who are enrolled’), used to define the whole of the senate
(Livy ir.1.11 and, most significant, Festus 304 L), seems to indicate that
the non-patrician senators were called conscripti.

This state of affairs may indicate that the formation of a privileged
group of gentes (later known as patricians) began when they secured for
themselves exclusive access to certain priesthoods and to special powers
in the council of the kings (senate). It is easy to envisage how certain
family groups would monopolize certain priesthoods. It is less easy to
imagine how they would dominate in the senate if the selection of the
individual members of the senate remained a prerogative of the king and
there were always senators (later known as conscripti) belonging to
unprivileged gentes. But Roman monarchy, as we have seen, was not
hereditary, and the kings were often foreigners. They needed support
from the local aristocracy, and they would have had to recognize the
power of the strongest genteseven if they retained the right to choose their

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SOCIAL, POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS STRUCTURES 103

own councillors. Though we know deplorably little about the senate of
the monarchy we can at least perceive that it was a powerful corporation.
Greek models may have had some influence on it. Its members were
chosen de facto for life. The number of senators was high: apparently 300
at the end of the monarchy (with confused traditions asserting that it was
originally made up of 100 members and gradually raised to 300). The
number 300 suggests some connexion, obscure to us, with the three
tribes and the thirty cwriae. The rights to approve laws and to choose the
interim head of state (interrex) are in themselves indications of the
prestige gained by the senate or rather by its most powerful members.

If this view is accepted, the distinction between patricians and plebei-
ans developed in the senate during the monarchy and established itself as
a principle of organization of the Roman state in the initial stages of the
Republic. It affected the priesthoods and the principal magistracies of the
Republic, but not, at least directly, the Roman assemblies and the army.
Those excluded from the privileged patrician gentes might be their clients:
in this case they would presumably derive advantage from their connex-
ions and perhaps even be called to the senate as conscripti. But there isnoa
priori reason for denying that some gentes had clients, yet were excluded
from the privileges of the patriciate. Though large groups of clients
would necessarily reinforce the success of certain gentes in establishing
themselves as patricians, clientship is not to be considered a preserve of
the patricians.

The real difficulty is the position of the plebeians in the Roman army.
As we have already emphasized, there is no sign that the Roman army
ever made major distinctions between patricians and plebeians. In the
Servian reform as traditionally described, the criterion for being assigned
to the hoplite infantry (and perhaps to the cavalry) was wealth, not
hereditary nobility. If we accept that the traditional description is un-
likely to correspond to the sixth-century situation, the question arises
whether there are traces of an earlier stage of the Servian organization
and whether these traces, if any, have a bearing on the condition of the
plebs. Now we know that even in the late Republic the first of the five
traditional Servian ‘classes’ was called c/assis, that is ‘army’ par excellence,
and all the other ‘classes’ were labelled together as infra classem (‘below
the army’: Gell. NA v1.13 from Cato; Festus 100 L). This suggests the
possibility that an earlier, perhaps the earliest, version of the Servian
order was a simple distinction between ¢/assis and infra classem. The classis
would have been the infantry legion, and the infra classem would have
provided the auxiliary, light-armed troops. In line with Greek principles,
though not yet with the sophistication of a Solonian reform, the c/assis
would have been chosen according to qualifications of wealth. Servius
perhaps meant to codify the introduction of hoplitic tactics into Rome

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104 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

and to reduce the tension between a budding hereditary aristocracy and
the non-aristocratic well-to-do. He may also have found a way of giving
citizenship to foreigners by admitting them to the army at an appropriate
level. But property qualifications would in themselves make the c/assis a
place for the patricians, as only a minority of plebeians could gain access
to it. The prevalence of the patricians would be reinforced by the co-
operation of their clients, to whom admission to the c/assis could hardly
be refused if the backing of the patricians was strong enough. Though
there might be a clear distinction between city-army (divided into classis
and infra classem) and private bands of noblemen with their clients, the
structure of the private bands was likely to influence the city-army. One
wonders, therefore, whether the rise of the patriciate to the position of
ruling class in the early Republic was accompanied by patrician assump-
tion of control over the c/assis, with a corresponding tendency to push
those who were not patricians or clients of patricians into the infra
classem. There is a traditional formula (‘populus plebesque’: Livy
XXV.12.10; Cic. Mur. 1) which seems to separate the notion of ‘populus’
(=army: cf. the verb populor to indicate the activity of the army) from
that of ‘plebs’. This formula may go back to a time at which few, if any,
plebeians managed to enter the cassis. P. Fraccaro’s hypothesis® that
during the monarchy the c/assis came to be divided into sixty centuries,
that is, to have a nominal strength of Gooo soldiers, remains attractive.
The creation of the two consuls at the end of the monarchy was probably
the occasion for splitting the c/assis into two legions, in each of which
there were sixty centuries, but in which each ‘century’ had a strength of
about sixty men. It became a peculiarity of the centuries of the Roman
legion that they consisted, not of a hundred, but of sixty men.

The fact that the Roman legion was still based on sixty centuries
during the late Republic is a reminder of the part the original three tribes
and thirty curiae played for along time in shaping the Roman state, either
directly or by duplication of the original structures. The 6000 infantry-
men who were accommodated in two legions in the early Republic
corresponded to the 600 knights (eqastes) who in their turn were the
duplication of the original strength of the Roman cavalry. The knights
maintained their direct connexion with the Romulean tribes longer
because they went on being called Tities, Ramnes and Luceres (the
official order). The qualification of priores (‘first’) and posteriores (‘second-
ary’) to distinguish the two centuries of each tribe indicated the rise from
100 to 200 knights per tribe. It is likely that the ce/eres mentioned by the
tradition were identical with the 300 “Romulean’ knights. The name was
preserved by the tribunes of the celeres (tribuni celerum) who still existed in

% Fraccaro 1931[Gs79], 91-7; 1934[G581], 57-71.

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SOCIAL, POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS STRUCTURES 10§

the early Empire, no longer as military commanders but as minor priests.
The Romulean tribes thus continued for a long time to influence the
organization of the army. Similarly, their subdivisions, the curiae, re-
mained, even after the creation of the centuriate organization by Servius
Tullius, one of the operative principles of political and social grouping.
There are some doubtful indications that the curiae owned land (Dion.
Hal. Ant. Rom. 11.7). But, as such, the curia was an association of given
gentes which met in rooms of their own (each called curia) for communal
meals and religious ceremonies. The rooms of all the curiae were origin-
ally in one building, but at an uncertain date twenty-three curiae moved
elsewhere and left the other seven (of four of which we know the names:
Foriensis, Rapta, Veliensis, Velita) in the old house; the seven became
known as curiae veteres (‘old curiae’: Festus 174 L). Each curia had a head,
curio, and a priest, flamen. A curio maximus presided over all the curiae —a
patrician in early republican times. Each caria acted as a voting unit in the
oldest assembly of Rome (comitia curiata). This principle of voting, not
individually but by group, was transmitted by the comitia curiata to the
later assemblies of the Roman people (comitia centuriata and tributa). It is
an uncommon one in the history of political assemblies and resulted in
diminishing personal initiative and responsibility in Roman assemblies
(with a consequent increase in aristocratic patronage within the voting
units). What the curiae had to vote for or to bear witness to in the
monarchic period is a difficult matter to establish. It seems probable that
the /ex curiata de imperio, which in the late Republic was a formal
confirmation of the appointment of Roman magistrates elected by the
centuriate assembly, was originally the act which conferred power on the
elected king — and consequently, at a later date, on the consuls. As the
kings were not hereditary and often imposed themselves from outside,
recognition by an assembly must have been necessary to legitimize their
authority. It is also probable that as early as the monarchic period two
meetings of these assemblies (comitia) were set aside each year to give an
opportunity to the Roman heads of household (patres familias) to make a
public testament. Transition from one gens to another and adoption by
another family within the same gens were acts that had to be performed
before the comitia curiata. It is more doubtful whether the comitia curiata
were asked to take part in legislation and treaties with other states. It is
equally doubtful whether the comitia had the right to act as a court of
appeal (provocatio) in criminal cases dealt with by the king or other
magistrates. With the creation of the comitia centuriata by Servius Tullius,
in whatever form that creation happened, a military assembly founded
upon wealth and meeting outside the pomerium with military symbols
began to compete with the curiate assembly. We are simply unable to
define the terms of this competition which proved to be of momentous

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106 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

importance for the future development of Rome. The curiae were origin-
ally, and remained even in their decline, an organization suitable for
moderate social differentiation where face-to-face contacts prevailed.
They remind us of the Greek phratries and are certainly one of those
features of archaic Rome which explain why Rome was capable of
appreciating Greek political ideas and of evolving on lines parallel to
those of Greece.

We are left still wondering whether Servius Tullius knew of Solon,
who may have been his contemporary. Servius Tullius is the one king to
whom we canat least attribute a political programme. He had to confront
the steady increase in power (and therefore in clients) of a restricted
number of gentes, the future patricians, who aimed at securing hereditary
privileges. As far as we can see, Servius recognized social and economic
differentiation, but no hereditary privileges, in his centuriate and tribal
reform. He was partially unsuccessful: two or three generations later the
aristocrats managed to get rid of the kings and to assume power. The
comitia centuriata in their original form did not stop the rise of the
patriciate; they may even have favoured it, if the patricians were the main
holders of wealth. On the other hand, in its more developed form the
centuriate order proved to be helpful in providing a meeting place, and
therefore a basis for compromise, between the patricians and the wealth-
iest plebeians.

What the other kings tried to do in coping with the situation inside
Rome is more difficult to guess. Themselves products of this unstable
society, they were more like Greek tyrants than traditional Greek basileis.
They were heavily dependent on their own military bands — that is, their
own clients. But at the same time they had to be acknowledged by the
local senate and by the curiae. In the intervals between kings an interrex
was chosen in turn from the senators according to regulations that
remained in force (though perhaps somewhat modified) during the
Republic, on the occasions when both consuls died in office (p. 184). On
the other hand, the king had to appear in the comitia curiata on stated
occasions; he could not dispense with it. In the circumstances we must
assume that military command was the most important function of the
king. It is therefore unlikely that the dictator, or magister populi (‘com-
mander of the army’), who makes his appearance as the supreme military
commander in emergencies during the Republic, should have been
originally an auxiliary of the king. Victory in war, justice and public
works in peace time were obviously what the Romans expected of their
kings. But, as we have seen, the king was alsoa priest. To judge from the
priest-king of Diana Nemorensis made famous by J. G. Frazer (Strabo v.
3.12, p. 239C; Suet. Calg. 35 etc.), Latium had some strange combina-
tions of priest and king in the archaic age, but the Roman combination

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SOCIAL, POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS STRUCTURES 107

was simple enough. Even during the Republic the successor to the king,
the rex sacrificulus, still had the highest position in the formal hierarchy of
the public priests (ordo sacerdotum), especially at banquets (Gell. NA
X.15.21; Serv. Aen. 11.2). The king organized games (/udi) in honour of
gods. He performed purificatory rites on behalf of the community, such
as the mysterious flight from the Comitium (Regifugium) on 24 Febru-
ary, perhaps at that time the last day of the year. This flight had its
counterpart in the equally mysterious flight of the people (Poplifugia)
from the Comitium on 15 July. Romans dated events by the years or at
least by the names of kings. The king’s wife, too, was a priestess. The
king had an official residence and a sacred place, the Regia, and he had
close relations with the virgin priestesses who preserved the sacred fire
for Rome, the Vestals. Stories about kings generated by divine fire were
told: about Romulus (as an alternative to the story about Mars as his
father) and about Servius Tullius. The connexion between king and fire
is found elsewhere, for instance in Iran. In Rome it seems to have
remained an element of secondary importance, like the other story of
Numa Pompilius being the pupil or even the lover of the nymph Egeria
(he was also considered a pupil of Pythagoras, against all chronological
probabilities). Where the intervention of kings in the religion of Rome
can be more clearly perceived, at the time of the Tarquinii, we find an
admixture of Greek elements. The consecration of the temple to
Iuppiter, uno and Minerva has at least one Greek feature, the elevation
of Minerva to protectress of Rome as Athena was of Athens. According
toa good tradition (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. rv. 62) the Tarquinii imported
the Greek Sibylline books into Rome from Cumae to be consulted under
state control.

We must assume a priori that the Roman kings made laws and
regulations, though the mechanism of such early legislative activity
(whether or not in collaboration with the senate, the comitia and the
pontiffs) is unknown to us. Nor is there any difficulty in admitting that
some royal enactments (/eges regiae) may have been remembered and even
obeyed in later centuries. We know in fact that collections of /eges regiae
existed (cf. Livy vi.1.10) and that some of these laws were attributed to
specific kings (most frequently to Romulus, Numa and Servius Tullius).
According to Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Ant. Rom. 111.36.4) the
pontifex maximus Gaius Papirius who lived after the expulsion of the
kings collected those laws of Numa which had been transmitted to Ancus
Marcius. According to a different version of the same story reported by
Sextus Pomponius, the lawyer of the Antonine age, a Sextus (or Publius)
Papirius living under Tarquinius Superbus made a collection of laws
enacted by all the kings (Dig. 1.2.2. 36). In any case a collection of /eges
regiae was known as Ius Papirianum (‘Papirian law’) and was commented

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108 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

upon by antiquarians such as Granius Flaccus who apparently lived
under Caesar (Dig. L.16.144 compared with Censorinus, DN 3.2). It
remains strange that Cicero, who shows a special interest in the gens
Papiria (Fam. 1x.21), should seem to be unaware of the Ius Papirianum,
though he is familiar with individual /eges regiae. It can in general be said
that, where we have the full text, the /eges regiae attributed to Numa seem
more archaic than those attributed to other kings.3” More particularly,
there is an evident difference in style and content between Numa’s laws
and the laws attributed to Romulus by Dionysius (Ant. Rom. 11.7—-29)
which must derive from a tendentious political pamphlet of the first
century B.c. But even for Numa’s laws there is no guarantee that they are
authentic legislation of the monarchic period. They may easily be the
product of pontifical lore of later centuries which ascribed them to the
authority of King Numa. We shall not therefore use these laws as
evidence for the monarchic period, though in doing so we may well miss
some interesting facts.

Archaic Roman religion*8 has a well-deserved reputation for punctil-
ious respect of formulae, for an almost inextricable identification of legal
and sacral acts, and finally for perceiving the intervention of the gods as
essentially discontinuous. Without indulging in social interpretations of
religion which our insufficient knowledge of archaic Roman society
would make particularly fragile, one can admit a certain connexion
between these attitudes and the predicament of people who were used to
quick and violent changes in their leadership and who were unsure of the
foundations of their own models, part of which came from Etruria and
Greece. One of the characteristics of Roman piety was to keep separate
the spheres of gods and men, but to take equal precautions in both. This
resulted in the use of very precise formal language for anything which
affected either divine law (fas) or human law (ius). The earliest stratum of
the Roman calendar goes back (as has been generally recognized since
Mommsen) to the time when the triad Iuppiter-Iuno-Minerva had not
yet been established on the Capitol at the centre of the Roman official
cult: this means, in all probability (though attempts have been made to
modify this conclusion), to before the beginning of the Republic. The
names of the month Aprilis and of the day Idus seem to be Etruscan. One
third of the days in the calendar are dies nefasti, that is, days reserved to the
gods (almost all odd days of the month), and two thirds are dies fasti, that
is, suitable for ordinary political transactions. Ceremonies directly refer-
ring to the opening, conduct and conclusion of military campaigns are
scheduled on days reserved to the gods. Connexions between the military
and diplomatic activities of the state and the sacred sphere were further-

37 Gabba 1960[B6o], 202. 38 See further Chap. 12.

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SOCIAL, POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS STRUCTURES 109

more maintained by special priestly corporations, such as the Salii who
propitiated war (whatever that meant), the fefia/es who were responsible
for the ritual correctness of the diplomacy leading to war or concluding
it, or the Arval Brethren (fratres arvales) who seem to have been respon-
sible for the purification of the borders of the ager Romanus. One
interesting implication of the institution of the /etia/es is the careful
elaboration of a doctrine of just war, according to which a war is justified
when the opponent refuses to make amends for past offence (p. 384). It
was normal practice, no doubt going back to the monarchic period, that
the heads of the Roman state were advised by technicians (augures) in the
interpretation of signs indicating approval or disapproval by the gods
before a specified course of action. There were offences within the city
which made a man sacer, that is, deprived of his civil rights and open to
divine punishment. By devotio a general could magically bind himself to
the enemy in such a way that he and they were vowed to destruction
together. By evocatio the gods of the enemy were invited (or compelled) to
migrate to Rome where cult was promised and help against the previous
worshippers expected. When in danger, the state could dedicate the
produce of one spring (ver sacrum) to Mars. And the king would celebrate
a ‘triumph’ (the Greek word #piayzBos, which apparently reached Rome
through Etruscan) when victorious according to recognized criteria. He
may have enjoyed divine status for the duration of the ceremony, but this
is not evident.

It would be easy to multiply the examples of the intense sacralization
to which the public life of the Romans was submitted. One would, of
course, have to add all the rites, the prayers, the precautions and the
straight magical practices with which a head of a household surrounded
his family and his earthly goods in daily practice. This formalism has also
something to do with the Roman inclination to turn abstract concepts
(such as fides (‘faith’)) or momentary events (such as the voice which
warned the Romans before the arrival of the Gauls in 390 and originated
the cult of Aius Locutius) into divine forces. Gods were about every-
where: in gates (Janus), on specific hills (Quirinus on the Quirinal; Diva
Palatia on the Palatine). The river Tiber was a god, and possibly Diva
Rumina was a specific goddess of the whole of Rome connected with the
Ficus Ruminalis, a fig-tree near the Lupercal associated by legend with
the suckling of Romulus and Remus (Dea Roma isa later, basically non-
Roman, creation). The multiplication of gods and rituals went together
with discontinuity of religious life and technical specialization in rituals.
Specific gods were left to the care of specific priests. Various sources (of
which the most important are Cic. Leg. 1.20 and Varro, Ling. v.84;
vil.45) allow us to compile a list of fifteen priests (famines) for as many
gods. Some of the gods (Falacer, Pomona and Flora) do not appear in the

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Ito 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

calendar, and the whole order of the famines seems hardly ever to have
enjoyed a collective activity. The first three famines (Dialis, Martialis,
Quirinalis) seem to have had special prestige, but there was no triad of
Iuppiter, Mars and Quirinus comparable with the triad of luppiter-Iuno-
Minerva to which the Tarquinii gave sanctuary on the Capitol. The ritual
of the spolia opima (‘spoils of honour’: p. 168) — which was probably more
ancient than the triumph and celebrated victory in individual combat of a
pre-hoplitic type — may have involved the three gods Iuppiter, Mars and
Quirinus (Festus 202 L; Serv. Aen. v1.859). It was left to the famen Dialis
to preserve to the end of the Republic, and beyond, the remnants of old
and by then inexplicable taboos. The flamen Dialis and his wife were
hardly allowed to leave their house, and even less the city. Ordinary
people obviously relied onthe purity of the famen Dialis, as they relied on
the chastity of the Vestals (who were cruelly punished for their
weaknesses). But nobody found a model in, or stopped to think about,
these priestly performances. It is significant that, with all this multiplica-
tion of gods, family gods (Manes, Lares, Penates, Lemures) remained
very impersonal and that there is little trace of specific gods of gentes. A
gens could havea favourite hereditary common cult (suchas the gens of the
Pinarii had for Hercules, and the Nautii for Minerva), but there was no
exclusive god, say, of the Claudii. Nor is there any clear evidence that the
Genius was the god of the gens rather than the god of each individual
male.

Just because there were specific places of cult for a specific family or
gens, and specific sanctuaries for the federal activities of the Latins, it
should not cause surprise that when the plebs began to organize its
resistance against the patricians during the early Republic, it managed to
connect itself with certain cults and temples, most conspicuously with
that of Ceres, Liber and Libera. But very little guidance came to political
life from temples and priests. The priestly group which ultimately
proved to be most influential in the Roman Republic and undoubtedly
had its roots in the monarchic period was that of the pontifices, who
belonged to the upper class (in the early Republican period to the
patriciate), were eligible for ordinary magistracies and altogether
brought the layman’s experience to -bear on sacral business rather than
vice versa. Originally five life members, one of whom acted as pontifex
maximus, they perpetuated their own college by co-optation. Whether
they were originally the ‘bridge-makers’, as their name seems to imply, is
irrelevant to what they turned out to be: authorities on the law, in both its
sacred and its profane aspects. In Rome the priestly machinery produced
technicians of the law rather than spiritual and political leaders.

We are back where we started. At the end of the monarchy, the
Romans were giving themselves a basically Greek structure of govern-

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SOCIAL, POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS STRUCTURES III

ment notwithstanding the rapid changes in the ruling class and the
constant interference of military bands seeking their fortune in whatever
part of Central Italy they could penetrate. The main annalistic tradition,
by playing down these bands, perhaps unwittingly exaggerates the
Greek elements in Roman constitutional developments; but these ele-
ments are real enough. They are more important than the trappings (such
as the fasces) which the Romans borrowed from the Etruscans (Sil. Pan.
vin.483ff). Hellenization included the dualism of senate—-popular assem-
blies, the hoplitic organization, the introduction of the census and of the
local tribes, and the progressive secularization of priesthoods. It finally
inspired the ways of life of the patriciate and the democratic opposition
of the plebeians. It prepared the way for future absorption of Greek gods
and of Greek theological thinking. Political and cultural hellenization,
partly derived from direct Greek contacts, partly mediated by the
Etruscans, went together with a self-conscious dissociation both from
the Greeks and from the Etruscans. Though some Greeks were ready to
look upon Rome as a Greek city, the Romans opted for Troy. If the style
of social, political and religious life in Rome became different from that
of the Etruscan cities, it could not be confused with that of any Greek city
we happen to know. The Roman plebs, for instance, does not seem to
have an exact counterpart either in Etruria or in Greece (Magna Graecia
included). Conversely, there seems to be little evidence in Rome for that
identification between aristocracy and cavalry of which there are good
examples in Greece.

What part literature played at such an early stage of Rome is more
obscure. We cannot be certain that the most famous Latin verse form, the
Saturnian, was a Greek import, as has been suggested. Some Greek
influence seems undeniable in the formulae of archaic hymns, such as the
carmen of the Salii which has come down to us. By 450 B.c. the Romans
were able to formulate laws in a way which leaves no doubt about their
acquaintance with Greek legislators, though it does not necessarily imply
the borrowing of individual laws. The word poena (‘indemnity’, ‘pen-
alty’) in the Twelve Tables is a manifest Graecism. Contacts with the
Greeks of Italy are enough to account for most of this cultural move-
ment, but tradition insisted that the friendship between Rome and
Massalia (mod. Marseilles) went back to the age of the Tarquinii (Justin.
XLIII.3; Strabo Iv.1.5, p. 180C): the friendship was old and firm enough
by 390 B.c. for the Romans to use the official house or ‘treasure’ of the
Massaliotes in Delphi to make an offering there. Through Massalia and
the Etruscans Rome was also put in touch with Carthage, and there, too,
the Romans encountered assimilation of Greek institutions and legal
patterns. The first treaty between Rome and Carthage — for the early date
of which the discovery of the bilingual (Etruscan—Phoenician) tablets of

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112 3. THE ORIGINS OF ROME

Pyrgi in the territory of Caere (p. 256) have provided an additional
argument — is another example of the adoption of Greek formulae. The
spontaneous, unprompted character of this orientation explains why we
can never exactly correlate Greek and Roman developments. If Servius
Tullius instituted in Rome some of the reforms which Solon and
Cleisthenes introduced in Athens, this did not lead, as in Athens, to a
democratic republic, but to a very aristocratic one.

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CHAPTER 4

ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I: THE SOCIAL
AND ECONOMIC FRAMEWORK

A. DRUMMOND

I. THE TWELVE TABLES

The documentation for early Roman social and economic structures is
sparse and inadequate. The literary narratives, preoccupied with war and
politics, commonly ignore such topics except where they are relevant to
their central themes, and even then their lack of detailed information
often confines them to speculation or inference from more recent condi-
tions. Archaeology throws some light on contemporary material culture,
but its evidence is severely restricted. We lack tombs securely datable to
the fifth century, apparently because it was then customary to bury the
dead without grave goods,! and fifth-century material is also absent from
certain major sacral sites, notably the Lapis Niger votive deposit and the
Sant’ Omobono sanctuary. Linguistic, religious and other institutional
survivals from the early period provide significant clues to particular
aspects of both economic and social behaviour but seldom yield a precise
context into which these individual items can be placed in terms either of
chronology or of overall development. Evidence from other societies
presumed to be of a broadly similar character may offer possible models
for the reconstruction or interpretation of the Roman evidence and, in
the case of the early economy, the known geographical features of the
region, together with the limitations on economic development com-
mon to ancient societies, supply at least a rudimentary framework for
reconstruction. None of this, however, suffices for more than tentative
hypothesis, and even then we must often rely partly on inference from
later Roman conditions, with the inevitable risk that the distinctive
features of sub-archaic society may become blurred or escape detection
altogether.

There is, however, one reputedly fifth-century document of which

numerous fragments survive and which purports to offer important
contemporary evidence for Roman social and economic structures in this

' Colonna 1977[B312], 131ff; above, p. 37.

113

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114 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

period. This is the Twelve Tables, the law-code assigned to ¢. 450 B.c.?
Although the law is restricted in its scope, has its own preoccupations
and may not always accurately reflect current patterns of social or
economic behaviour, the preserved provisions of the Twelve Tables
remain the most significant potential indicator of the character of early
republican society.

The compilation of the Tables is attributed to two ten-man commis-
sions (decemviri legibus scribundis) which replaced the consulship as the
chief magistracy in 451 and 450 B.c. and which should, therefore, have
been recorded in the list of eponymous magistrates (the fast/). Are these
Decemvirates authentic? The composition of the first board shows two
suspect features: although it purportedly (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. x.56.2)
comprises ex-consuls,? no two members had held the consulship
together and none had held it more than once, despite the fact that
repeated tenure of the office was not unusual in this period (p. 206, n. 84).
However, the exclusion of consular colleagues may be mere accident,
deliberate policy or largely a further consequence of the omission of the
most distinguished ex-consuls. That in turn may have a political motiva-
tion. The years 45 5—45 2 B.c. had seen a sudden influx into the consulship
of new families (Table 3; p. 207); according to the literary tradition these
still belonged to the exclusive ruling class of Rome, the patriciate (p.
179), but had not hitherto held the principal magistracy. Three of these
newcomers appear in the First Decemvirate, along with a further new
name (Genucius). The remaining Decemvirs belong to more distin-
guished patrician families but not the pre-eminent half-dozen. Hence the
particular composition of this board may reflect the temporary success of
patrician families which did not normally enjoy political distinction and
which were, perhaps in consequence, more amenable to demands for the
publication of the law, whilst no less anxious to reinforce the internal
cohesion of the patriciate itself (p. 233).

The Second Decemvirate is more difficult to defend. Half of its
members have names which are elsewhere held only by men of plebeian
(i.e. non-patrician) status and they can scarcely belong to obsolete
patrician families since, with one exception (Antonius (p. 193)), none
appears elsewhere in the early fasti; a major commission of this kind
could hardly include so many non-consular patricians. Evidently then
the second board is divided equally between patricians and plebeians.4

2 Text: Bruns n. 15; FIRA 1.21ff. English translation: A.C. Johnson, P. R. Coleman-Norton and
F.C. Bourne, Ancient Roman Statutes (Austin, Texas, 1961) n.8.

3 Apart from Genucius (‘Minucius’ in Diod. x1.23.1) and, for Livy and Dionysius, Ap. Claudius
(whom the Capitoline Fasti apparently identified with the consul of 471). On the problems of the
consular status of the Decemvirs cf. Fraccaro 1947[Dro0], 247 n. 1; Ogilvie 1965[B129], 456f.

4 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. x.39.4 supposes that three were plebeian, Livy tv.3.17 that all were
patrician. Diodorus’ variant Sp. Veturius (x11.24.1) has probably been erroneously carried over from
the First Decemvirate (cf. Perl 1957[Dz5], 47, 57, 83f)-

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THE TWELVE TABLES 115

Yet such a composition is difficult to reconcile with the patrician
dominance in this period or with the political measures in the Tables
designed to strengthen the patriciate’s reputed monopoly of power, most
notoriously the ban on marriage between patricians and plebeians (which
curiously is often ascribed specifically to the Second Decemvirate).
Conceivably plebeian discontent with the work of the first commission
led to its replacement by a mixed board, while the patriciate reacted by
ensuring that plebeian members were elected who would be reluctant to
adopt an independent stance, but so speculative a scenario is hardly
satisfactory as a demonstration of authenticity.

Whilst, therefore, the First Decemvirate at least may well be historical,
neither it nor its successor is so unequivocally trustworthy as to dem-
onstrate the traditional date of the Twelve Tables beyond cavil. Of
course, even if both Decemvirates were spurious, the very fact that the
Tables were the work of the early Republic may have been preserved,
along with the Tables, in oral tradition, but the vital consideration is
whether the Tables themselves, so far as they survive, can reasonably be
assigned to a fifth-century context.

The preservation of such a document presents no difficulty. Even Livy
(v1.1.10; cf. 1x.34.6f) seems to imply that the Tables survived the Gallic
Sack of Rome (390 B.c.) in some form (cf. p. 308), and since they were
intended to make public the law and remained a principal basis for much
private law into the second century B.c., their continued display in the
Forum (presumably in front of the Rostra where our sources unani-
mously locate them) is to be expected. Whether the Tables were still
visible in the first century (when their importance had declined sharply)
is more doubtful,> but in any case knowledge of their contents in the
extant sources does not rest on direct acquaintance with a publicly
displayed text but on oral and, increasingly, literary traditions. The
spelling and phonetics of the extant citations betray a long and continu-
ous process of modernization, certain provisions are the subject of
well-established variants, and others again are clearly transmitted inaccu-
rately. Indeed, down to the early first century children might still learn
the Tables by heart® and they formed the basis of the earliest attempt at a
general treatment of Roman private law, the Tripertita of Sex. Aelius
Paetus (cos. 198 B.C.), as well as being the subject of a number of later
commentaries by the imperial jurist Gaius and others.

The Tables are known only from individual references and citations in
juristic, antiquarian and other literary authors, with the inevitable dan-
gers of loose quotation from memory, misinterpretation in the light of

5 Dion Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.27.3 may imply so but cannot be pressed.
6 Cic. Leg. 11.59; cf. Plaut. Moste/l. 118ff, Plut. Cat. Mai. 20.6.

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116 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

later law and even the false ascription of provisions believed to be of early
date; hence, for example, doubts surround Tacitus’ attribution of a
maximum interest rate to the Tables (Aun. v1.16; cf. Cato, Agr. praef.)
since it duplicates a law recorded in Livy (v11.16.1) under 357 B.c.
Nonetheless, where provisions are cited in more than one author, the
discrepancies are insufficient to suggest the existence of radically differ-
ent versions of the whole code, and certain broad consistencies of style
(e.g. in expressing contingent regulations) indicate a comparatively
homogeneous tradition. Moreover, a number of archaic linguistic fea-
tures suggest that the archetype which must lie behind this tradition was
of relatively early date. Thus the cumbersome expression of complex
provisions’ or the frequent failure to specify the subject of a verb and the
unmarked changes of subject (e.g. Table 1.2) reflect a very early stage in
the development of legal drafting; and the citations contain a wealth of
archaic words and usages, one at least already unintelligible to their
earliest commentator (Cic. Leg. 11.59).

Other considerations date particular regulations before the third
century. The provisions on personal injury (Table vi11.2—4) must ante-
date considerably the Aquillian law (usually dated to ¢. 286 B.c.) which
established new and more sophisticated penalties for damage to persons
and property, required explicitly that the damage be inflicted ‘wrong-
fully’, re-categorized injuries to slaves and probably employed a far more
advanced legal style. The crude expression of accidental homicide® must
also belong to a very early stage of legal development. The penalty of
talion for a particular form of serious injury, the selling into slavery or
execution of the judgement debtor, the archaic house search ‘with dish
and band’ (‘quaestio cum lance et licio”) were all almost certainly a dead
letter by the mid-Republic, whilst the procedures of adoption, freeing
from paternal power and the will ‘by bronze and balance’ (p. 147f) had
already then been developed through a creative application of
Decemviral provisions. Moreover, certain clauses most properly belong
specifically to a fifth-century context: the sale of the judgement debtor
‘across the Tiber’ (presumably before the capture of Veii in 396 B.c.); the
exclusion of full marriages between patricians and plebeians; the special
arrangements with two forgotten peoples, the Forctes and Sanates (p.
86); and the restrictions on aristocratic funerals (p. 233). It has been
supposed? that the Tables represent a mid-republican compilation, prin-
cipally on the basis of a few provisions regarded as anachronistic in a

7 E.g. x.8: ‘at cui auro dentes iuncti escunt, ast im-cum illo sepeliet uretve, se fraude esto’ (‘but a
man whose teeth are fastened with gold, if further (anyone) shall bury or cremate him with that
(gold), let it be without risk of punishment’).

8 viit.2q: ‘si telum manu fugit magis quam iecit’ (‘if the weapon escaped from his hand rather than

he threw it... ’).
9 Lambert 1902[G249], 149ff; 1903[G2so0], Section VI; 1903[G251], so1ff.

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THE TWELVE TABLES 117

fifth-century context.!° Such anachronisms, however, are few in number
and may rather reflect spurious attribution by authors anxious to accord
a prestigious origin to measures believed to be of some antiquity, and it is
difficult to see why a published document of this kind should, on this
hypothesis, have included so many obsolete provisions. Overall the style
and stage of legal development represented by the vast majority of the
code’s provisions make an early republican date highly plausible; it
should be accepted.

Modern reconstructions of the Tables’ internal organization are based
principally on a few ancient attributions of specific rules to individual
Tables and what little is recorded of the distribution of material in Gaius’
six-book commentary. These data confirm that the code did not repre-
sent a systematic treatment of the law (in the modern legal sense) but are
insufficient to determine the disposition even of some major topics. Nor
do the fragments provide a complete picture of the Tables’ contents.
This is adequately demonstrated by allusions to expressions which
evidently appeared in provisions no longer extant. As most topics, and
many specific rules, appear in both juristic and non-juristic sources, the
preserved citations probably reflect the main areas of law included, but
some significant provisions may well have failed to survive, particularly
those of little later relevance. As even the Decemviral recognition of oral
contract (stipulatio) rests on a single passage in a papyrus fragment of
Gaius, arguments from silence cannot be pressed.

The Tables need not have restricted themselves to what would now be
regarded as private law (cf. Livy 111.34.6) and certain norms (e.g. the ban
on nocturnal meetings (v111.26)) clearly have a political or semi-political
character. However, unless the scope of the extant fragments is grossly
misleading, the public law in the Tables was confined to a few matters,
perhaps those of particular contemporary importance. Private law
formed the core of the code, so far as it is known, and here the purpose of
publicity which lies behind its publication (p. 232) made comprehensive
treatment a desideratum. The Tables fulfilled that requirement suffh-
ciently to be regarded later as the fundamental basis of civil law but even
so, despite the fragmentary character of our evidence, it is probable that a
variety of topics were passed over. The most serious omissions con-
cerned the details of the individual modes of legal action (/egis actiones),
not formally published until the late fourth century (p. 396f). Certain
other matters were probably taken for granted (e.g. the rights and duties
of guardians or supervisors), others still regarded as the province of
social obligation (p. 155). Other deficiencies, such as the notorious

10 E.g. Table x11.5 (p. 203).

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118 4- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

failure to define offences, betray the undeveloped state of the law, and
even where a particular topic was included, the code probably concen-
trated on those aspects where clarification, reform or publicity was
desirable; the comparatively rare testate inheritance was treated before
intestate (Ulpian, Dig. xxxviu.6.1pr.), and at intestate succession itself
the rights of the immediate heirs are simply assumed; the law stresses
principally the respective rights of other kinsmen where no immediate
(or ‘automatic’) heir is forthcoming (p. 149). Similarly in delicts the
emphasis is on the remedies available to the injured party; that the action
itself entitled the victim to redress required no overt statement but rested
on tacit social recognition.

In summary, the haphazard means by which the fragments of the Tables
have survived and the probability that they were in any case an incom-
plete statement of the law imply defects in our knowledge of the Tables
and of the law in the fifth century. In addition, even some of the extant
provisions may have been mis-attributed to the Tables, reinterpreted or
modified in the light of later law. Nonetheless, the ancient tradition that
the Tables represent a fifth-century law-code remains credible. It is
supported by both the form and content of a number of extant citations,
and the authors of the code may even have been known from the fas#i.
With due allowance, therefore, both for the lacunae in the Tables as
preserved and for the limited and specialized perception of contem-
porary society which they provide, their evidence for fifth-century
conditions is solidly based and material.

Il. ECONOMY
(a) Agriculture

To the limited extent that later writers concerned themselves with
economic matters they saw early republican Rome as essentially a farm-
ing community. Although they were aware of the natural advantages of
the site of Rome for commerce (e.g. Cic. Rep. 11.7ff) and casually refer, for
instance, to imports of wheat, they make little of craftsmen, industry or
trade. In thus emphasizing the central role of agriculture they merely
rehearse an obvious truth. As in most ancient city-states, comparatively
low agricultural production, the prevalence of subsistence or near subsis-
tence farming, difficulties of transport, lack of incentives for the produc-
tion of a surplus and other factors will have combined to restrict the
development of the market and of non-agricultural production. Hence
possession of land was apparently regarded as the characteristic qualifica-

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ECONOMY 119

tion for military service!! and Roman military colonies were explicitly
communities of farmers (co/oni); agricultural metaphor permeates later
Latin vocabulary; and agriculture occupies a central position in early law
and in religious ritual. Thus one of the functions of the archaic sale ‘by
bronze and balance’ (mancipium), in which certain objects were purchased
against a payment of bronze weighed out before five witnesses and a
“‘balance-holder’ (/ibripens), seems to have been to protect farmers con-
cluding purchases vital to their livelihood. This procedure gave the
purchaser the right to call on the seller to help uphold his title to
ownership if that was challenged by a third party before the period
needed to establish ownership by continuous possession elapsed; and
should the third party be successful, the purchaser could then sue the
seller for twice the purchase price. Only certain objects, however, could
be so purchased, and for the most part these res mancipi were items of
central importance to agricultural operations. In this period they prob-
ably comprised land subject to full citizen ownership, yoked and draught
animals, persons (including slaves) under the authority of a family-head
and certain so-called rustic praedial servitudes (in particular the rights to
walk, to drive animals or carts and to take water through another’s
property).

As the elaborate cycle of public religious festivals concerned with the
sowing, growth, health, harvesting, and storage of crops demonstrates,
cereals (with viticulture) had long been dominant in the rural economy.
These probably included barley!? but above all far, almost certainly
emmer (¢riticum dicoccum), a hulled wheat which is unsuitable for
bread-making but was particularly well adapted to Roman conditions
(p. 135) and probably consumed mainly as porridge (pu/s) (cf. Pliny, HN
xvui1.83f). Still in the Twelve Tables the chained debtor is to receive one
pound of far a day, the death penalty is exacted for stealing, spiriting
away or setting fire to crops, remedies are provided for damage to
property by drainage operations or animals, special procedures are
prescribed for reclaiming material being used as vine-props (to protect
the current user), the leasing of draught animals is regulated in certain
circumstances and there is extensive provision for the precise fixing and
preservation of property boundaries.

Cereals and viticulture will not, however, have enjoyed a monopoly in
the agricultural regime. The seasonal character of the labour require-
ments of cereal crops and the need to safeguard against their failure may

"| The term assiduus (‘occupier’) seems to have been used in a contrast with prodetarius to denote
those qualified for regular military service (cf. Twelve Tables 1.4: below, p. 166 n. 127).

12 Used in part for animal fodder; cf. the ‘barley money’ (aes bordearium) later granted to the
cavalry for maintenance of their mounts.

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120 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

already have been significant factors in encouraging diversification. So
may crop rotation, although here the wide variety and unscientific
character of rotation practices even in nineteenth-century Italy'3 warn
against the assumption of a uniform or wholly rational pattern. Many
holdings were probably insufficient to permit an annual fallow, desirable
though that might be,'4 and hints in Varro (Rust. 1.44.2) and Pliny (HN
xvit.187; cf. also Columella, Rus¢. 1.10.7) suggest a later tendency of
peasants to alternate cereals with other crops: beans, lupines and perhaps
root crops such as turnips. Such staples are likely to have been popular
from an early date. However, given the probable lack of manure or other
fertilizer for the main area under cultivation, such successive cropping
must have reduced yields. That would also be true if interculture was
practised, as in later periods.

How far, in addition, production for the market encouraged special-
ization or a wider range of crops is difficult to estimate. The need to
purchase certain essential commodities presumably necessitated some
surplus production, either on the peasant’s own farm or through hiring
his labour to a larger landowner. There may also have been some
growing of cash or barter crops, particularly those low in labour require-
ments. Yet the evidence is scanty even for olives (the most obvious
candidate) whose cultivation appears to have been introduced into
Central Italy from the Greek world ¢. 600 B.c. and rapidly established
itself in Etruria.!5 Although olive stones occasionally appear in archaeol-
ogical contexts (notably at Sant? Omobono'®) and oil containers are not
unknown, olives are accorded no specific treatment in state ritual (p. 601),
and in the Twelve Tables the destruction of trees entails only a compara-
tively modest pecuniary recompense. While some specialized production
must be assumed (particularly by the more affluent), for the majority the
danger of individual crop failure and the consequent unreliability of the
market in essentials will doubtless have encouraged the tendency to
satisfy all possible needs from the peasant’s own resources. In this
context especial importance will have been attached to the kitchen-
garden, as the elder Pliny!” plausibly assumes, perhaps on the basis of
later practice. In contrast to more extensive areas of cultivation, such a
specialized plot could be given intensive watering and fertilization and
thus be made to yield, in relatively high quantities, a variety of vegetables

13 Porisini 1971[G123], 6-16; 42-59.

14 E.g. Columella, Rust. 11.9.4. That occupancy (wsscapio) for two years rather than one was
required to establish title in the case of land (Twelve Tables v1.3) may reflect its importance rather
than a norma! annual fallow (as Watson 1975{G317], 153).

15 Vallet 1962{Gr54], 155 4ff. 6 P. Virgili in Colini e¢ af. 1978[E96}, 428.

17 HN xix.49ff (interpreting thus the beredium of the Twelve Tables (Table vit.3): see p. 100).

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ECONOMY 121

and fruit to supplement the basic cereal diet, which of itself would be
deficient, particularly in vitamins A and C.

Even so, given the probable small size of many early holdings,
numbers of citizens must have derived no more than bare subsistence
from their land. Admittedly, Varro’s notion (Ras¢. 1.10.2) that all citizens
had originally been allocated two iugera (= 0.5 hect.) should be rejected as
a myth based on later surveying practice for land allocation in Roman
colonies!8 and (probably) on a spurious parallel with archaic Sparta.
More persistent and credible is the figure of seven (or, less commonly,
four) iagera, found, for example, in accounts of the viritane allotments of
Veientan territory!® or of the impoverished circumstances of leading
political figures.20 Although these accounts are often suspect, the figure
may indicate the size of holding later considered to be the minimum for
subsistence.?!

The difficulty is to estimate the productive capacity of a plot of this
size. In particular, we have no evidence for average yields in this period,
with the result that modern estimates are based essentially on analogy
with later conditions, which themselves vary considerably and whose
applicability is open to challenge.” The fluctuations in annual yields, the
disparities in soil fertility even within a given area in Central Italy and the
uncertainties surrounding the combinations of crops grown, crop rota-
tion and the extent and return of the kitchen garden further complicate
the problems of a realistic estimate of yield and indeed warn against
broad generalization. However, it seems likely that to support a family
on sucha holding it must often have.been necessary either to supplement
one’s income through wage labour (presumably paid in kind) or more
probably through use of common land for further cultivation or pasture.
Although the treatment of public land (ager publicus) in the literary

18 Gabba 1978(G74], 250ff; id. in Gabba and Pasquinucci 1980[G76], 55-63. Livy even purports
to record early land assignations of this size (1v.47.7; VIII.11.14; 21.11; cf. v.24.4; VI. 16.6). For other
possible explanations of the figure see above, p. 100.

19 Livy v.30.8; Diod. x1v.102. Cf. early second-century allocations in citizen colonies (Brunt
1971{Azt], 193). 2% Heitland 1921(G88}, 131ff.

21 Cf. also Varro, Rast. 1.2.9; Columella, Rust. 1.3.10; Pliny, HN xviit.18.

2 For some discussion of the relevant problems see Ampolo 1980{Cz], 20-4; De Martino
1979[Gso0], 241-55; 1984[Gs5 3], 241-63 (neither entirely satisfactory). There is further difficulty in
estimating the weight yield of kernels from emmer; on this cf. Jasny 1944[Gg91], 15 4ff.

Ampolo estimates net yields of milled emmer (with future seed excluded) at ¢. 85-90 kg. per
iugerum, De Martino gives 125-45 kg. per éagerum, apparently as the toral yield in usable wheat (the
net yield would then be ¢. roo—25 kg.). Neither calculation allows for loss during storage (probably
at least 5 per cent, even for a husked wheat). The subsistence food requirements of an individual
(average for adults and children) are reckoned at ¢. 210 kg. of unmilled grain (=¢. 190 kg. of milled
grain) if little else is consumed (C. Clark and M. Haswell, The Econonrics of Subsistence Agriculture (ed.4,
London, 1970), 57ff); this rises to the equivalent (in cost) of at least ¢. 250 kg. of unmilled wheat if
allowance is made for some diversity of diet and the provision of clothing (ib. 83).

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122 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

sources for the most part merely retrojects later controversies, there are
possible traces of a tradition that an individual might exploit as much
such land as he could immediately work?3 and this may represent an early
convention, allowing a limited quantity of public land to be used for
cultivation. Since access to common land was also vital for timber, fuel,
wild fruits, fungi and other edible plants, game, pannage and pasture,
some convention on the individual’s right to its use is to be expected.
Nonetheless, the availability of such an additional resource must often
have been crucial. The small size of land allocations attested from the
later fourth century presupposes similar additional opportunities for
occupation and may well reflect a pattern of peasant economy already
familiar in the environs of Rome itself.?4

The pig was probably the animal normally kept on small-holdings.
The Twelve Tables (vur.10; cf. also v1.9; vii1.11) assert the right of
landowners to collect mast (g/e#s) which has fallen onto a neighbouring
property (although this might also be used for draught animals) and pigs
occupy a pre-eminent position in the blood-sacrifices of the family cult,
including funerals. Sheep were a valuable source of milk, cheese, wool
and, to a much lesser extent, meat, but both they and the almost equally
versatile but destructive goat might prove difficult to maintain in the
summer drought through lack of water and adequate pasture. Pigs
presented less of a problem since they could probably find pannage
throughout the year in the still abundant woodland and the flitch, no less
than the kitchen garden, could assume a significant function in the rural
diet (cf. Cic. Sen. 56).

Even so, animal husbandry probably played a restricted role in the
peasant economy, as this stratum was least able to generate the capital
required for the purchase of livestock. Sheep and cattle may, however,
have occupied a more central place in the holdings of the wealthy,
although reliable direct evidence for the fifth century is scanty. Even if
pecunia (‘wealth’, ‘money’) derives from pecus (‘flock’, ‘herd’) and implies
that pasture animals were an archetypal form of wealth-holding at an
early date,?5 by the fifth century the term may have denoted any kind of
wealth (especially perhaps movable wealth) in whatever form it was
held26 and need not imply continued substantial holdings of livestock.

2 Tibiletti 1948[G147], esp. 219ff, citing Siculus Flaccus, Condic. Agr. p. 136.10-13 Lachmann;
ef. p. 138.8-10 Lachmann; Columedlla, Rast. 1.5.11. This may in practice have already included the
tight to use dependent labour to work such land but that perhaps became a major phenomenon later
(certainly for agriculture) with the rapid increase in such labour resources. Cf. further p. 326.

24 For further discussion cf. p. 325f.

23 E.g. Cie. Rep. 11.16; ef. Gnoli 1978[G79], 204-18.

2% So already in the Cassian treaty (493 B.C.) if the quotation in Fest. 166L derives from there (p.
275). Cf. also the (controversial) usage attributed to the Twelve Tables (v.3; v.7; x.7), with Diédsdi
1964[G202], 87-105; 1970[G203], 23ff.

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ECONOMY 123

Certainly there was a tradition, supported by or based on apparently
archaic formulae,?’ that until the mid-fifth century fines imposed by
magistrates were assessed and paid in sheep or cattle, but the two
innovations reputedly introduced at that time are inconsistently re-
corded: the introduction of a maximum fine is variously ascribed to a Lex
Aternia Tarpeia of 454 B.c. or a Lex Menenia Sestia of 452 B.c., and the
fixing of ‘money’ equivalences (i.e. specified amounts of weighed
bronze) to a Lex Aternia of 2454 B.c., a Lex Tarpeia apparently after 452
B.c. or a Lex Iulia Papiria of 430 B.c.28 Such confusion inspires no
confidence in the authenticity of any of these specific enactments and the
dating of these innovations to the mid-fifth century may be based merely
on the fact that the Twelve Tables uniformly express penalties in
‘monetary’ terms. Even if, however, the practice of assessing fines in
terms of livestock persisted into the early Republic, it presumably
originated in the regal period when pasturage may have been more
prevalent and the confiscated animals went to form part of the royal or
priestly estates.2° They were, therefore, even then a form of wealth-
holding rather than a unit of exchange, and agreed equivalents of
weighed bronze may have been accepted in practice long before fixed
valuations were established by law. There is, therefore, no reliable clue
here to the economic significance of livestock in the early republican
period.

Pasturage on some scale must, of course, have been practised in
Roman territory. Some of its products were indispensable and some
areas, especially towards the coast, will scarcely have tolerated any other
productive use. The lower, though permanent, labour requirements
involved should have made it a more attractive, as well perhaps as a
more prestigious, form of large-scale wealth-holding than intensive
cultivation, provided sufficient land and labour were available, and
wealth may well have been often so maintained and transmitted, particu-
larly where cattle could be grazed throughout the year on permanent
riverside meadows (cf. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 11.2.1). Elsewhere, how-
ever, transhumance was probably necessary. This presented problems of
access to upland pastures, supervision and security which may well have
increased in the disturbed conditions of the fifth century. Moreover, it is
impossible to gauge how far the flocks which wintered in Roman
territory were the property of Roman citizens rather than of outsiders

7 Varro ap. Gell. NA x1.1.4; Non. p. 319f; cf. Varro, Rust. 11.1.9.

% Cf. Cic. Rep. 11.60; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. x.50.1f; Festus 268/270L; Gell. NA xt.1.2.

29 If the wager required of both parties for most early civil law procedures was originally in
livestock (cf. Cic. Rep. 11.60), that of the loser was probably forfeited to the pontifices (Varro, Ling.
v.180), perhaps to be used for an expiatory sacrifice (either directly or as a means of defraying the
cost) or (as the later money wager) for normal state ritual (Festus p. 468L).

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124 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

domiciled in the hills. Pasturage was not necessarily, therefore, a univer-
sal (still less the sole) activity even of those whose wealth took them
comfortably above subsistence level.* If the Licinio-Sextian proposal of
376-367 B.c. sought to regulate large-scale use of public land for pasture
(p. 328f), that may reflect a development which had been strongly
fostered by the seizure of the territory of Veii.

(b) Market development and trade

The apparent scarcity of other early communities in her close vicinity
suggests that Rome had long acted as the market centre for her imme-
diate territory, a function illustrated by the early importance of the
market held every ninth day (by inclusive reckoning). That role was
extended with the progressive absorption of small independent commu-
nities in the wake of Roman expansion in the later regal period. Although
these may have retained some defensive and religious functions, political
and legal activities, together with the major popular religious celebra-
tions, were concentrated in Rome, which may itself have experienced an
increase in population (p. 139). Roman institutions, epitomized in the
sacral and political distinction between intra- and extra-urban space
(p. 585), Show the city occupying the same central role that the evidence
of settlement and roads has suggested for Veii;3! and this must have
enlarged the market’s potential clientéle despite the distances involved
(probably up to 15 km. or more in most directions south of the Tiber) and
the activities of travelling pedlars and craftsmen. By contrast, the already
small-scale role of the absorbed communities as market centres will
gradually have been eroded, contributing to their progressive decay.
Rome’s strategic position at a major Tiber crossing and on the route
up the Tiber valley will also have acted as a stimulant to market
development. So too presumably did the important salt deposits at the
river mouth and the need for metals and perhaps luxury goods. The
requirement that those liable for military service should provide their
own armour and weapons will certainly have stimulated some surplus
production; so too the competition in lifestyle, display and liberality
among the aristocracy, along with the irregular and often unpredictable
demands of social and family obligations. Moreover, market exchange in
general may have been facilitated by an increasing use of metal as a unit of
exchange, initially in the form of irregular lumps of bronze (aes rude).
Although the use of cumbersome blocks of imported metal must have
severely restricted the volume of such transactions, the sale ‘by bronze

» As, for instance, Ménager 1972[H56}, 367ff. Pasturage appears to make little impact on early

law or ritual, although special factors (including our imperfect knowledge of the law) may be partly
responsible. 31 Kahane, Threipland and Ward-Perkins 1968(B3 50], 71.

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ECONOMY 125

and balance’ certainly originated as a purchase against an agreed weight
of bronze; and while the exclusive use of the bronze pound for reckoning
penalties in the Twelve Tables may reflect primarily the need for clarity
and ostensible equity, it was evidently an established medium of value
and exchange.

Nonetheless, certain important potential stimuli to market develop-
ment were absent. Rome had no significant and distinctive natural
resources to form the basis of extensive manufacture for external trade.
Surplus capital in the form of booty may have been available in some
quantity in the sixth century when Rome was militarily more successful,
but how far this created any large-scale domestic production of luxury
items is not clear (even the local decorated pottery is of comparatively
modest quality) and the difficult external position of Rome and the
Latins for much of the fifth century must have sharply diminished this
source of stimulus. Although the growing of some cash crops is likely,
peasant agriculture will have tended towards self-sufficiency so far as
possible and taxes or other financial obligations played little role in
stimulating the creation of a surplus: army-pay (stipendium) and its
corollary, the property tax (¢ributum), will have become necessary on a
regular basis only in the Samnite wars of the fourth century when armies
first commonly operated away from Rome for long periods. Neither,
therefore, can go back to the regal period as the historians assume and if
the accounts of their alleged re-introduction in 406 B.c.32 have any basis,
they may refer to temporary measures associated with the siege of Veii.33

So far as larger-scale agriculture or pastoralism is concerned, this may
have been seen in part at least as a reservoir of wealth and status rather
than as a productive enterprise, but even where surplus production for
the market was involved, the returns may have been curtailed by the
comparative expense and restricted pool of permanently exploitable
labour. Slavery in particular will have been small-scale, since the sources
of supply were limited. No doubt, as the historians presume, capture in
war was the principal source but for much of the fifth century such
captives were necessarily few. Domestic breeding may have been prac-
tised where feasible but in view of the expense involved it is unlikely to
have occurred on a large scale. There may also have been some trade in
slaves, perhaps fostered by Etruscan piracy, but it can hardly have been
extensive, not least in view of the similar needs for such labour within
each community. The inclusion of slaves among the items bought ‘by
bronze and balance’ is a token of their value and also perhaps of the
restricted volume of such purchases; and provisions to regulate the sale

32 Livy 1v.59.11; 60.5ff; Diod. x1v.16.5 (stipendium only).
33 For a different view cf. Gabba 1977{G387], 13-33; below, p. 301.

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126 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

of allied captives are noticeably absent from the first Carthaginian
treaty** in contrast to the second, although this may merely reflect a
development of sensibilities by the contracting parties, not least for
political reasons.

As a corollary of the shortage of slaves other forms of dependent
labour were apparently exploited on some scale. Those subject to pater-
nal authority who committed certain offences could be surrendered to
their victims, who presumably might use them as labour. So also the
controversial rule (Table 1v.2b) that a son sold by his father three times
should be free of his control is probably best interpreted as imposing a de

facto restriction on the father’s right to sell his children, perhaps as a debt-

pledge or in effect as a form of hire; in either case the need for labour is
probably implied and the quasi-servitude here and in other instances may
have threatened to become permanent. Above all, the principal conse-
quence of debt-bondage (p. 215), and probably its primary advantage to
the ‘creditor’, was to leave the ‘debtor’ working as his bondsman and it is
significant that it was precisely in the late fourth century, when Rome’s
growing military success brought an increased reservoir of slave-labour,
that such debt-bondage was formally abolished (p. 333). Even so, debt-
bondage was a comparatively unpredictable and inflexible form of
labour and may even have involved maintenance of the debtor’s family as
well as himself, thus further restricting its profitability. The ease and
rapidity of its supersession by slavery, as a cause or consequence of its
prohibition in the fourth century, may indicate that its contribution to
the creation of an economic surplus had been relatively limited.

Nor, so far as we can tell, did the state take a strong interest in
promoting or protecting trade, with the possible exception of a few vital
commodities. Rome’s discernible military objectives were security,
booty, land and self-aggrandisement (particularly by her aristocratic
leaders), not commercial protection or expansion,?5 and she developed
no major naval forces to match those of her Etruscan neighbours.
Whereas the first Carthaginian treaty carefully specifies the conditions
under which Romans may trade in Carthage’s claimed spheres of influ-
ence, Carthaginian traders at Rome are neither regulated nor protected
(in contrast to the second treaty); and if, as is probable, Rome exacted no
harbour or market dues, that denotes the undeveloped condition and
requirements of the Roman treasury, not a desire to stimulate trade. Our
sources allege that the state took a hand in the occasional import of corn
supplies to meet a local shortage.and in control of the production and sale
of salt,>” but if true, this demonstrates only concern with the supply of

* Polyb. 111.22.1ff cf. p. 520f. 35 For a different view see p. 297.
% Even the supposed abolition of harbour dues in 508 must be fictitious (Ogilvie 1965[Br29],
258). 37 Cf. Clerici 1943[G32], 461—6 (sceptical).

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ECONOMY 127

Fig. 35. Marble cinerary chest from the Esquiline (found inside a large peperino chest). Perhaps
made on Paros. Late sixth century- early fifth century. From Colonna 1977 [B312], 143 fig. 5.

essentials (and in time with the enrichment of the treasury), not a general
interest in the market. The same is probably true of the cult of Mercury,
whose temple was allegedly dedicated in 495 and whose introduction
may also reflect anxieties about the corn supply.3® In contrast, the
preserved fragments of the Twelve Tables give only limited attention to
market transactions: no specific provisions are preserved, for example,
on surety or pledge, little on lease or hire. Our defective knowledge of
the Tables’ contents may be partly responsible but not wholly so in view
(for instance) of the later ill-developed character of the law of credit.%°
The severe procedures for debt execution hardly encouraged the bor-
rowing of capital and if the Tables did restrict interest rates to 84 per cent
(p. 116), this must bea monthly rate, designed for short-term loans to meet
an immediate crisis, particularly among the peasantry.” A flexible form
of oral contract (stipulatio) was recognized but could not be concluded by
agents. The law of sale formally protected only purchase by mancipium
against defective title (p. 119); to secure comparable protection other
purchasers had to conclude a separate oral contract to that effect, a clear
admission of the defective character of the law in this area. That is not a
reliable index of Rome’s actual status as a commercial centre but it does

3% Wissowa 1912(G3519], 304.

% The Twelve Tables may, however, have offered rudimentary protection for informal credit
sales: cf. lust. Inst. 11.1.41 (= Table vit.11); Watson 1975(G317], 145-7.

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128 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

suggest that her legal institutions were not designed with such a role in
view.

Assessment of the actual scale and nature of market transactions is
severely hampered by the inadequacies of our evidence, in particular the
paucity of relevant archaeological data. Thus the only significant ma-
terial evidence for foreign trade in this period concerns Attic pottery
(chiefly cups) which continued to be imported until the mid-fifth cen-
tury. Even this trade is impossible to quantify in absolute terms and
although these vases indicate some private purchasing capacity, even as
luxury items they will hardly have been of major economic significance.
Moreover, there is no certain indication that Attic vases were accom-
panied by other significant imports from Greece itself or the Greek
colonies of South Italy and Sicily. A few pieces, such as the Greek
cinerary chest of Parian marble from the Esquiline necropolis (Fig. 35),*!
were almost certainly imported in this period rather than in the wake of
later expansion but they reveal only a limited acquisition by a few
individuals with the means to indulge their tastes. And of trade with
Etruria and Latium, which should have been far more significant, there is
little concrete trace.

The literary sources supplement this meagre record with the temple of
Mercury, allegedly dedicated in 495 B.c. and accompanied by the institu-
tion of a ‘guild of traders’, accounts of wheat imports in times of shortage
(p. 133f) and two treaty provisions. The first Carthaginian treaty (p.
521f) regulates trade by Romans and their allies in North Africa, Sardinia
and Sicily but the extent of the trade which it reflects is impossible to
assess. No relevant archaeological material has been discovered and
although the trade might have been entirely in perishable commodities,
the treaty may simply incorporate conditions required by Carthage in her
dealings with the Etruscan coastal states.42 According to Dionysius
(Ant. Rom. vi.95.2) the Cassian treaty of 493 B.c. between Rome and the
Latins (p. 274) ordered the hearing of lawsuits relating to private
contracts between a Roman and a Latin within ten days in the courts of
the state where the contract was made.*3 The mutual trading rights which
certainly existed later (and included the right of Latins to acquire
property by mancipium) may well reflect a formalization of an earlier
freedom of exchange and acquisition (p. 270), but all this again provides
scant indication of the character, extent or economic effects of the
transactions involved.

“| The quantity of such imports would be much increased if a series of early fifth-century Greek
marble sculptures from Rome (Paribeni 1969[G121], 83-9) was imported in this period, but they
may, of course, have arrived much later.

“2 The treaty itself may be framed on the Carthaginian model; cf. Taubler 1913(J235], 254-64.

*} The Twelve Tables (11.2) also provided for cases involving foreigners, although not necessarily
only Latins.

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ECONOMY 129

The problems are no less acute when we turn to artisan production at
Rome itself. There is a similar shortage of relevant archaeological
material and because of the lack of datable tomb groups no firm
chronology has yet been established for much of the domestic pottery (an
issue further complicated by the likely survival of earlier shapes and
forms). The most that can be said is that such pottery shows a continuing
general decline in quality from the sixth century, that comparison with
Veientan material suggests it was largely of local fabrication, and that
Rome seems neither to have produced herself nor imported from Etruria
any truly high quality work.

In metals local production of mirrors, other ornaments or major
bronze sculpture is not clearly attested and Pliny (HN xxxrv.34) notes
that bronze cult statues were rare; terracotta and wood were apparently
still the norm. Several votive and honorary statues are attributed to the
fifth century, but although some were no doubt ancient, their literary
identifications and dates are probably pure conjecture: in some instances,
for example, they presuppose that Rome anticipated Greece by up to a
century in erecting honorary statues to the living. Two possible major
fifth-century bronzes discovered in Rome’s territory (a head from the
Janiculum (the ‘Sciarra youth’) and the Capitoline wolf) highlight
further difficulties in our evidence. For both may derive from Etruscan
workshops and their appearance in Rome may be the result (for example)
of the plundering of captured Etruscan cities at a much later date; the
Capitoline wolf (even if a fifth-century work) is first securely attested at
Rome in the tenth century a.p.

Whether or not as a consequence of the deficiencies of the archaeo-
logical record, there is little clear evidence that specialization in artefact
production was far advanced. The material remains do show that pot-
tery, tiles and metalwork had long been specialist products and the large-
scale construction of public buildings at Rome from the sixth century,
together with a more advanced house architecture, clearly created a
demand for a variety of building skills, even if some of the principal
artists and craftsmen may have come from elsewhere. The Twelve Tables
refer directly to flute-players and goldwork, and carpenters and smiths
appear separately organized in the developed centuriate organization,
along with trumpeters and horn-players. Whether the alleged early
guilds (flute-players, goldsmiths, carpenters, dyers, leather-cutters,
curriers, smiths and potters)*> were already established we do not
know.* All were probably specialist occupations by this stage but apart

“ Richardson 195 3[G129], 77-8.

45 Plut. Nwma 17.1f; cf. Pliny, HN xxxiv.1; xxxv.159; Flor. 1.6.3.

“© The identity of the earliest guilds became politically important with the restrictions imposed on
such collegia in the first century B.c. and the list may be an invention of that period.

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130 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

from flute-players (needed inter alia for cult purposes) and goldsmiths,
represent only the trades required to service the basic needs of a largely
peasant community.

This does not mean, however, that the aggregate volume of transac-
tions involved even at this level was insignificant but the scale both of
this and of the acquisition of ‘luxury’ items is impossible to assess. In
view of the Decemviral restrictions on grave goods and the flourishing
trade in Attic painted pottery in the late sixth century and in black-glaze
and black painted ware in the early fifth we should not discount the
possibility that Rome had generated notable levels of consumption (and
competition) among her most affluent citizens, but the direct evidence at
our disposal for trade and local production is insufficient to demonstrate
such a hypothesis. Apart from Attic pottery and a few other high quality
goods, the only known imports are metals and possibly on occasion
wheat. What Rome exported, apart from salt, can only be conjectured;
animal products (especially skins and leatherwork) and timber are per-
haps the two most obvious possibilities. Domestically there is evidence
at most only for a modest luxury output for consumption and no sign
that Rome was a major centre of artistic innovation. On the other hand,
in the sixth and early fifth centuries she did erect a remarkable series of
well-decorated public temples and sometimes employed outside special-
ists for the purpose: at least two surviving terracottas seem to be of Greek
workmanship and were probably made in Rome,*’ while literary sources
cite epigraphical evidence for two Greek artists, Damophilus and
Gorgasus (evidently of non-Ionian extraction), engaged on the temple of
Ceres,*® and claim, on unknown authority, Etruscan workmanship for
the statuary of the Capitoline temple. How far this apparent contrast
(also observable at Veii) between the modesty of artistic production for
private purchasers and the relative scale and splendour of public building
at least into the early fifth century is merely a consequence of the peculiar
character of the archaeological record it is obviously impossible to
determine, although the city as a whole evidently still offered worthwhile
prospects of plunder to the Gauls in 390.

A number of factors are commonly taken to indicate a general recession
throughout Central Italy in the fifth century, particularly in the later
decades:* a sharp decline in temple construction, in imports of Attic
pottery, in local quality work and in the scale and splendour of funerary

47 Andrén 1940[B279], Rome: Forum 11.11; Gjerstad 1953—73[A56], tv.456f.

48 Le Bonniec 1938{G360], 256-62.
4 E.g. Torelli 1974[J120], 828-9; 830-1; Ogilvie 1976[A96], 104-7.

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ECONOMY 131

deposits. Yet even in central and southern Etruria, where these changes
are most apparent, their extent and momentum vary. Indeed, the fifth
century seems to see a new prosperity at Falerii and, further north, at
Orvieto and Clusium. The decline in temple building, for example, is
much less strongly marked here and whereas imports of Attic painted
pottery appear to decline in the coastal cities from ¢. 500 B.c., they
increase further inland, although all areas show a marked decline after the
mid-fifth century.

Even the contemporary deterioration in the quality and quantity of
south Etruscan artistic production is not uniform.*° It is to be seen
primarily in the pottery, continuing, in Black Figure and bucchero, a
trend already established in the later sixth century. Red Figure proper is
restricted to a discontinuous and small-scale production from the late
fifth century, although even so Etruscans were among the first to imitate
this difficult technique. Other forms of Etruscan art, however, are more
resilient. Mirrors and bronzes were probably produced in South Etruria
and at Praeneste throughout the century, if fora restricted clientéle; and
although there is little sculpture from the coastal states, there are some
notable mid- or late fifth-century pieces from Veii and Falerii.

Thus the picture in Etruria is complex, varying according to the
locality or factor involved. Moreover, one of the most uniform develop-
ments, the general decline in Attic pottery imports from ¢. 450 B.c., may
be due to special causes. New markets probably became available to the
Greeks, notably the Adriatic port of Spina whose imports increase in
precisely this period. For external reasons now beyond detection the
carriers in the pottery trade may have changed or at least become more
diverse ¢. 480 B.c. and a more scattered pattern of distribution have
reduced concentration on Central Italy.5! At the same time new outlets
seem to have opened up for Etruscan metals and metalwork (probably a
principal item of exchange for Attic imports) in North Italy and beyond
the Alps. In any event, since this was a luxury trade in a specialized
commodity, its decline does not necessarily imply any general diminu-
tion of external commerce, the bulk of which was presumably limited to
Central Italy.

If we turn specifically to Rome, there may be some individual local
peculiarities, particularly in imports of Attic pottery where the available
evidence has revealed an extraordinary surge in imports of figured
pottery in the period 525-510, followed by an equally sharp decline.52
However, these statistics are vulnerable and their evidence to be treated
with caution, particularly perhaps in their implication that the decline at

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132 4- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

Rome both preceded and outstripped the general decline in the Etruscan
coastal states from c. 500. Their explanation is also uncertain* but so far
as the economic implications are concerned, the deficiency in the early
fifth century was largely remedied by imports of Attic black-glaze and
black painted ware, which indicates at most only a relative decline in
purchasing capacity. The further decline of Attic imports after the mid-
fifth century is no more marked at Rome than elsewhere in Central Italy
and so may be largely a localized consequence of this wider phenomenon,
without specific implications for the city’s own economic fortunes.
Admittedly domestic production does not seem to have expanded to fill
the gap and local pottery even deteriorates in quality, but this continues a
trend already established in the later sixth century; Rome seems to have
had no strong tradition of local quality work from which to build up her
own production subsequently. Moreover, our general knowledge of
artisan production in this period is small, and sweeping conclusions
about this or the general level of prosperity it implies unwise (p. 129).
The major find of votive statues at Lavinium5> shows that elsewhere in
Latium some large-scale sculpture was still being produced, albeit in a
cult context.

The only firm indicator of a reduction in prosperity at Rome is the
decline in temple construction, which seems as true of her as of the Latin
and south Etruscan cities. Here, however, much turns on the source of
finance involved. If there was an element of private contribution by
aristocrats anxious both to validate their monopoly of political power
and to outdo each other by public benefactions, the decline may indeed
imply a general decrease in wealth at the higher social levels, which might
be the result of some wider economic decline. Later analogy suggests,
however, that the principal contribution will have come from booty.°¢ If
so, the virtual cessation of temple construction after the early fifth
century simply reflects Rome’s more difficult military position in the
subsequent decades. Moreover, so far as a decline in prosperity is evident

53 In contrast to the Etruscan material, that from Rome derives from non-funerary contexts,
especially votive deposits of varying lifespan; thus Meyer’s statistics (loc. cit.) include the Sant’
Omobono deposit (20% of the total) which appears to end ¢. 500 (and the Vesta deposit (10%) which
ends ¢. 475). There is in any case an inherent danger in relying on statistics based on the vagaries of
archaeological discovery and potentially subject to the effects of local variations in cultural practices.

54 The hypothesis of a sudden decline in prosperity in the last decade of the sixth century and
associated with Rome’s loss of hegemony in Latium (Meyer loc. cit. 63ff) does not accord with the
record of temple-building into the first two decades of the fifth century (below).

55 Enea nel Lazio 1981 [E25], 221-70.

56 P. 287. There may also have been some use of public labour; the legends associating this with
the regal period (so already Cassius Hemina fr. 15P) are unreliable but the obligation itself may be
authentic (it reappears later in the Caesarean colony at Urso (dx. col. Gen. Inliae (FIRA in. 21) 98)).
Also to be noted here is the responsibility of landowners to mark the course of roads passing between
their properties (Wiseman 1970[J244], 140f; 147, so rightly interpreting Table vit.7).

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ECONOMY 133

Fig. 36. Denarius of C. Minucius Augurinus (135 8.c.) depicting a column statue anachronistically
alleged to honour L. Minucius for relieving a corn shortage in 440-439 B.C. The figure on the left
may be P. Minucius Augurinus (cos. 492) or M. Minucius Augurinus (cos. 491), that to the right is
probably M. Minucius Faesus, among the first plebeian augurs in 300 (RRC 242.1).

in some south Etruscan coastal cities, a number of specific developments
can be cited which might have precipitated a relative impoverishment
there but which would have had for the most part little significant effect
on Rome: the growing isolation of Campania, the new impetus to
metalwork in northern Etruria, the probable limitations on Etruscan
piratical activities, the defeat inflicted by Cumae and Syracuse in 474 B.c.,
increasing Syracusan intervention (including a direct raid in 454) and
perhaps growing Carthaginian pressure. Of these only the decline in
trade with Campania, together with a reduced market in these south
Etruscan states themselves, will have impinged directly on Rome and
even their effects are impossible to assess.5’ For Rome her own compara-
tive lack of military success until late in the century is likely to have been
at least as important a factor in reduced public and private demand as a
decline in her external market, but again the overall economic impact is
impossible to gauge. Lack of booty may obviously have had some effect
in reducing opportunities for acquiring (snter alia) luxury goods among
the comparatively affluent, and even among those of the smaller peas-
antry who might serve on campaign it removed one potential, if limited,
resource against impoverishment. For them, however, as for those
usually excluded from military participation, the underlying problems
probably lay elsewhere, in the recurrent difficulties of agriculture in the
Roman Campagna, perhaps exacerbated by land shortage.

The Roman historians record at various stages in the fifth century

famines alleviated by imports from Etruria, the Pomptine plain and
occasionally Campania, Cumae and Sicily; indeed, as early as the 130s

57 Any interruptions to the salt trade (vital to those in the hinterland) through warfare must have
been temporary.

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134 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

coins commemorate L. Minucius’ supposed alleviation of a corn short-
age in 440/439 B.c. (Fig. 36).58 The reliability of such records, however, is
another matter. High corn prices, with eclipses, were entered on the
pontifical whiteboard (Cato Orig. fr. 77P; cf. also Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom.
vi1.1.6) but the survival and use of such pontifical records from the fifth
century is highly contentious (p. 20). The extant historians seldom
record eclipses and the absence of corn shortages in Livy’s account of the
fourth century after 383 B.c. renders suspect those assigned to the fifth;
even if allowance is made for increased prosperity and the establishment
ofa regular import trade in grain as a result of Rome’s expansion, it seems
difficult to believe that no such crises occurred in that period, particu-
larly in view of the growth of the city itself and the apparent occurrence
of such difficulties in the early third century.5° Where the reports of fifth-
century imports can be tested they prove suspect, most obviously in the
anachronistic details of Greek tyrants who aided Rome in 492/1 and
411,© and there is no solid evidence that these transactions were recorded
in Greek sources. Moreover, the issue of consular initiatives to deal with
shortages was already of topical interest in the mid-second century B.c.®!
and may have influenced annalistic writing on the subject.
Nonetheless, the possibility cannot be excluded that some general
memory of early famines and attempts at their alleviation survived in oral
if not in documentary form. If the alternative was starvation for numbers
of its citizens, some initiative by the state, provided sufficient public or
private resources were available, is not unlikely.62 Certainly the occur-
rence of such crises is beyond dispute; even the most fertile regions of the
Mediterranean world in antiquity did not escape poor harvests and
consequent shortage. The same will have held good of Roman territory,
even though generalization on conditions there is misleading since the
differing qualities of local soils, particularly in their reaction to variable
climatic conditions, were probably as significant a feature of agriculture
in ancient as in modern times. As later, the arid coastal sand dunes and
often ill-drained quaternary dunes immediately inland will have been
given over to marshland, woodland and pasture. Agriculture will have
been restricted to the fertile alluvial soils of the river valleys and the
primary volcanic soils of the broad ridges which comprise most of the
Campagna. Here winter drainage was probably a recurrent difficulty;
evidence from Veientan territory suggests that in antiquity these areas
may often have had a heavy clayey soil which tended to retain moisture

58 Ogilvie 1965(B129], 256; RRC nos. 242-3. 59 For a different view see p. 409.
6 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. vit.1.1ff (= Cn. Gellius fr. zoP; Licinius Macer fr. 12P); cf. Livy 1.34.2
(492 B.C.); Iv.52.5f (411 B.C.). 6! Cf. Val. Max. 11.7.3 (138 B.c.).

62 1f public cults of Mercury and Ceres, Liber and Libera were established in the early Republic,
they may attest state concern over grain supplies.

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ECONOMY 135

in winter and present a stiff resistant crust during a spring or summer
drought.®3 How soon these soils also began to suffer from lack of depth
(the major deficiency in modern times as a result of progressive erosion)
it is impossible to say. By the late Republic the ager Pupinius north-east of
Rome was a by-word for its thin and arid soil (Cic. Leg. Agr. 11.96; Varro,
Rust. 1.9.5; etc.) and Livy (v11.38.7; cf. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. xv.3.5) has
mutinous Roman troops in 343 B.C. generalize its pestilential and dry
qualities to the entire area around Rome. This, however, is clearly
rhetorical exaggeration even for Livy’s own day; Strabo (v.3.7, p 234C)
under Augustus attests the fertility of the wider environs of Rome®™ and
his reference (v.3.12, p. 239C) to their extensive occupation is amply
confirmed by the surviving remains. Nonetheless, in the early period the
poor drainage of these soils may have made proper cultivation difficult,
particularly given the likely prevalence of wooden implements, with
resultant low yields. The preference for emmer was presumably due
precisely to its capacity to withstand moist as well as arid conditions.

The other principal factor affecting cereal yields is the variability of
climate which characterizes Rome and its environs. Lack of autumn rain
or an unusually cold winter may hinder germination. An excessively wet
winter may slow root development, particularly where the soil is reten-
tive of moisture or poorly drained. The most serious problem, however,
is lack of spring rainfall in precisely the period of maximum absorption
by wheat (April-May). The piecemeal information available on ancient
climatic conditions indicates that these followed broadly the same pat-
tern as in the modern period, but the greater forestation of the whole
region and notices of the timing of Tiber floods® suggest a heavier and
more evenly distributed rainfall and also perhaps some mitigation of the
extremes of winter and summer temperatures, although other, fragmen-
tary evidence of uncertain reliability points to an occasional severity of
winter conditions in the early Republic which is unparalleled in modern
experience. Whatever modest variations were in evidence, however,
the same fluctuations of temperature and rainfall which are characteristic
of the modern climate seem to be attested by later literary references to
unusually severe or dry winters and excessive summer drought, and the
effects of adverse climatic conditions on grain crops were sufficiently

63 Judson and Kahane 1963(G93], 77, 91-

Cf. also Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 11.25.25 vuit.8.2.

65 Le Gall 1953[C8], 27-31. Cf. also the probable greater area of standing water (Quilici and
Quilici Gigli 1975[(C13], 8-23).

% Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. x11.8; cf. Livy v.13.4 (400 B.c.); Zonar. vim1.6; August. De civ. D. 111.17
(270 8.c.). Cf. Saserna ap. Columella, Rust. 1.1.5 (alleging generally colder conditions at an
unspecified date before the first century B.c. on the dubious basis of the spread of vine and olive-
growing); Heuberger 1968(C7], 270ff (Alpine evidence). For climatic variation in general in
antiquity cf. Vita-Finzi 1969{Cr9].

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136 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

familiar to be retrojected as the cause of failure in the fifth century (e.g.
Livy 1v.12.7). A more even rainfall may have reduced summer deficien-
cies a little, but a periodic shortfall was clearly a familiar problem since
specific religious remedies were early instituted to meet it. Hence barley
may have been attractive as an alternative to emmer precisely because of
its early maturation (which also reduced attack by mildew).

Climatic variability, coupled with soil conditions, poor seed quality,
inadequate rotation practices, lack of fertilizer, periodic flooding in low-
lying areas and the incidence of locusts, mildew and other crop diseases
are likely to have resulted in wide fluctuations of return (as in early
nineteenth-century Italy®’). Further problems were caused by the dan-
gers of sudden rain during threshing and the need for protection against
vermin and damp during storage. Given the lack of incentive to produce
a substantial surplus beyond the normal market requirements (since
there was no discernible external outlet), periodic shortages are certain in
early republican Rome. The sanctuary to Ceres, Liber and Libera (tradi-
tionally dated to 493 B.c.) will belong in this context, as does the general
concern of public ritual with agricultural prosperity.

In the fifth century such difficulties will have been aggravated by
Rome’s external position. Enemy raids threatened the outlying areas and
some territory may even have been temporarily lost to Veii (cf. p. 297).
Deteriorating relations with the hill peoples may have hindered access to
summer pastures (with consequent increased competition for access to
public land), whilst one cause of friction may itself have been pressure on
lowland resources which led to attempts to exclude the hillmen from the
winter pastures of the coastal plain. In turn, the advances of the Aequi
and Volsci (p. 282f) may have prompted some influx of fugitive Latins.
Above all, Rome’s agreement with the Latins in the early fifth century (p.
274) will have precluded further territorial expansion at their expense. As
a result, there was little scope for new settlement until the capture of
Fidenae and Veii.®

How far Rome in fact experienced population pressure in the fifth
century is difficult to assess. The recorded census figures (Table 1) imply
a sharp decline in military manpower (or total population) early in the
century but their evidence is spurious. As enumerations of adult males
they allow insufficient growth in the fourth and third centuries, whilst as
figures of total population (cf. Pliny, HN xxx111.16) they still yield an
impossibly high density of population (at least 120 per km.? in 493 B.c.),
the decline from 150,700 (498 B.C.) to 110,000 (493 B.C.) is impossible to

67 Porisini 1971[G123], 1-6.

68 The fifth-century colonies are probably all Latin foundations (Salmon 193 3[I62], 93-104).
Roman citizens may have participated in some numbers (p. 278) but were not necessarily predomi-
nant. Only two such colonies are in any case recorded between 492 and 418 B.c.

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ECONOMY 137

Table 1. Roman Census Figures to 234]3 B.C.

Servius Tullius 80,000 Fabius Pictor fr. 1oP (Livy 1.44.2)
(83,000: Eutr. 1.7; 84,700: Dion.
Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.22.2)

508 €. 130,000 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v.20

593 120,000 Hieronymus O)]. 69.1

498 150,700 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v.75.3

493 over 110,000 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v1.96.4

474 a little over Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1x.36.3
103,000 (or 133,000)

465 104,714 Livy 11.3.9

459 117,319 Livy 111.24. 10, etc.

393/2 1§2,$73 Pliny, HN xxxu.16

340/339 165,000 Euseb. Armen. Ol.110.1 (160,000:

Hieronymus Ol.110.1 and Prosper
Aquitanus 1.539 Ronc.)

6. 323 150,000 Oros. v.22.2; Eutr. v.9 (250,000:
Livy 1x.19.2; 130,000: Plut. Fort.
Rom. 13)

294/3 262,321 Livy x.47.2 (alii alia)

290/89-288/7 272,000 Livy, Epst. x1

280/79 287,222 Livy, Epst. xu

276/5 271,224 Livy, Epit. xiv

265/4 292,234 Eutr. 11.18 (382,234: Livy, Epit. xvt)

252/1 297,797 Livy, Epit. xvint

247/6 241,212 Livy, Epit. xix

241/o 260,000 Hieronymus O1.134.1 (250,000:
Euseb. Armen. Ol.134.3)

23.4/3 270,212 Livy, Epit. xx

Source: after Beloch 1886(Gro], 339ff; Brunt 1971{A21], 13.

justify and the transition to a later enumeration of adult males alone is
difficult to explain: the census procedures were from the outset con-
cerned predominantly with those qualified for some form of military
service.°

Even though the census figures are spurious, they perhaps imply a
belief on the part of those who fabricated them that Rome’s manpower
declined in the early fifth century. If so, however, the basis of that view
remains unknown. Little in the extant narratives suggests any ancient
belief that Rome suffered a major long-term loss of territory in the early
fifth century” and although five (Latin) colonial foundations are as-
signed to the period 503~492 B.C., emigration elsewhere (Dion. Hal.
Ant. Rom. vu.18.3) hardly offered a viable escape on any scale from

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138 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

whatever pressures were experienced at Rome. The annalists do record a
series of pestilences but their basis is subject to the usual uncertainties;
some at least may be a convenient explanation for a series of uneventful
years (cf. Livy 1v.20.9) and the details of all will certainly be later
reconstruction. Plague, of course, will have beena recurrent factor (often
linked to malnutrition) and religious remedies, such as the nail set
annually in the wall of the Capitoline temple,”! the shrine of Apollo (431
B.c.) and the /ectisternium (399 B.C.), testify to its dangers if the relevant
traditions are reliable. Whether, however, this represented anything
abnormal by ancient standards or had significant demographic effects we
do not know. All that can be said is that there is no clear evidence of any
major impact on Rome’s military capacity or policy. If malaria was
already established in Central Italy, it did not prevent Latin or Volscian
occupation of the southern part of the Latin coastal plain or fourth-
century Roman viritane allocations in the area (which was notoriously
infested later); certainly nothing in the historical record demonstrates
that it was introduced into Central Italy in this period with a resultant
heavy initial mortality.

Some assistance in determining population trends might be sought
from the results of archaeological survey but the evidence available is
limited and of uncertain significance. The only attempt to investigate a
substantial block of relevant territory concerns an area (designated for
convenience ‘Collatia’) between Rome and Gabii.72 In the sixth century
this reveals several significant settlements on the Anio, together with a
progressive concentration of occupation in the sector towards Gabii. By
the mid-Republic important sites on the Anio remain but elsewhere
settlement is much more evenly distributed, perhaps in larger units, and
tending to gravitate towards the major highways. Less systematic evi-
dence from elsewhere in Latium suggests that this transformation is a
general phenomenon, as archaic concentrations of population gave way
toa more dispersed pattern of occupation. The apparent decline of some
of the major archaic centres and the development of road-side sanctuaries
from the fourth century will reflect the same process. Several factors are
presumably involved here: the political and economic decay of the older
foci, the increasing importance of the major roads, the re-settlement of
population elsewhere, the premium on estates near Rome, but above all
progressively more secure conditions.

Most of these factors, however, apply only from the fourth century
and the position in the fifth century is unclear. In the Collatia survey the
evidence for this period largely comprises fragments of tile and impasto
pottery which easily escape detection, are often difficult to classify

1 Magdelain 1969[G65 4], 257-86; cf. p. 187. 7% Quilici 1974[B388].

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ECONOMY 139

precisely and whose chronology and relationship to archaic wares are
inadequately known. Moreover, the quantities involved are often insuf-
ficient for a realistic assessment of the size of the site concerned or the
duration of its occupation. The material at present assigned to the fifth
century would suggest a depopulation of the countryside here, perhaps in
favour of concentration around the larger centres,”3 but until the pottery
is more securely classified and other surveys conducted, no firm general
conclusions can be drawn.

At the Iron Age and archaic settlements absorbed by Rome funerary
practice virtually excludes specifically fifth-century evidence from the
cemeteries and the hitherto limited investigation of habitation sites is
again severely hampered by the uncertainties of pottery chronology and
classification. So far as it goes, survey and excavation material suggests
no decline at some sites (e.g. Antemnae and Marcigliana Vecchia)” but at
others (e.g. Monte Cugno (Ficana?) and Castel di Decima) few traces of
an early republican presence have hitherto appeared. Even if, however,
these centres were already in decline, that need not be true of the
surrounding territory, whose pattern of occupation remains to be ex-
plored. The rural population of Veii apparently continued at virtually the
same level in the fifth century (Fig. 37);75 despite the immediate impres-
sion of some of the archaeological evidence, the same might still be true
of Rome.

The survey evidence does, however, seem to reveal a rapid growth in
settlement in the seventh and sixth centuries, which will have created
increasing competition for land, particularly in the vicinity of the major
centres. The analogy with Veii (cf. Fig. 37a—b) suggests that little
territory will now have been available near Rome for occupation, and ifa
tribunician bill of 456 B.c. to open up the Aventine for settlement is
genuine and correctly dated,”6 it presumably reflects increased pressure
of population in and around the city. The detailed provisions concerning
the delimitation of, and title to, private land in the Twelve Tables, the
sacral character attached to boundary stones and alleged capital sanction
against their removal also indicate considerable intensity of occupation
in certain areas. In the more outlying districts a much lower density of
settlement might be expected and is suggested by the survey evidence.
Land across the Anio was allegedly available for distribution to the
Claudii in 504 (although that may be aetiological fiction to explain the

73 Cf. possible contemporary changes in settlement in Faliscan territory: Potter 1979[B385], 89.

™ Varro (Ling. vi.18) believed that some absorbed communities retained sufficient sense of
identity to revolt after the Gallic Sack. 73 Potter 1979[B385], 89.

% Dionysius (Ant. Rom. x.32.4) claims that a bronze copy of the law was set up in Diana’s
Aventine temple but his own account of the measure’s contents (ib. 2) seems to be another
retrojection (with varied application) of later controversies over the occupation of ager publicus.

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140 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

La Torre®

Nazzano@®

e
e@Capena

M.S. Angelo:

4 Bronze Age
@ 10th. 8th cents. BC

9 10km

a. ¢. 1§00-700 B.C.

Fig. 37a-d. The South Etruria survey: evidence of settlement density and patterns.

particular configuration and location of the Claudian tribe), and in
lowland Latium as a whole there were evidently still large quantities of
uncleared woodland in the fourth century (Theophr. Hist. P/. v.8.3).
Nonetheless, whether in public or private ownership, much of this
territory may already have been reserved for extensive forms of exploita-
tion (notably pasturage), particularly by the major families. They will
assuredly have profited from the expansion of the sixth century, as the
use of clan names to designate the newly created rural tribes (p. 179)
perhaps indicates, and they may well have sought to extend their
holdings where possible on existing territory to compensate for the
reduced availability of pasture elsewhere and for the lack of fresh

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ECONOMY 141

Nepi
@La Ferriera

road to Caere

b. seventh to sixth centuries B.c.

territorial gains. The sharp reduction in booty through much of the fifth
century may also have encouraged the aristocracy (whose competition in
status and therefore in display and liberality will not have diminished in
the new republican order) to focus more purposefully on the exploitation
of land and the labour of impoverished citizens to generate the income
required to sustain their position.

Thus, while an overall demographic increase in the fifth century
cannot be demonstrated (and may even be deemed unlikely), there may at

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142 4. ROMEIN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

c. fifth and fourth centuries B.c.

least have been population pressure around the major political, defensive
and market centre and increasingly little land available for occupation
elsewhere: the determination with which Rome prosecuted the conquest
of Veii and the subsequent viritane distributions within her territory
certainly imply some potential demand for land. That is in any case
readily intelligible since peasant impoverishment must have been a
recurrent phenomenon throughout the early Republic. The fluctuating
expenses of family life, the probable small size of many holdings, the

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 143

Lucus
Feroniae

d. third, second and first centuries B.c.

From Potter 1979 [B385], figs. 12, 21, 25 and 27.

considerable hazards and inherent defects of small-scale peasant agricul-
ture, coupled with a system of intestate succession whereby all children
under their father’s authority inherited equally, ensured that debt and
destitution were endemic in Roman society. Hence the need to resort to
debt-bondage or the sale of children to avoid starvation.

Ill. SOCIAL STRUCTURES
(a) Introduction

The social structures encountered in the fifth century must in large
measure reflect the developments of the regal period and even beyond.
Unfortunately, it is seldom possible to discern with any certainty their

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144 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

origins, the causative factors behind their emergence or the changes to
which they had been subject over the intervening period. Our ignorance
of so central an issue as the development of private land-ownership (p.
100) is an apposite instance. So also is the related controversy over the
origins and functions of the gens or ‘clan’ (ib.). Was it, for example, once a
(or the) primary social unit, linked perhaps to a regime of common clan
ownership or occupation of land?7’ Or was it a progressive development,
particularly among the aristocracy, of the regal period, reflecting the
emergence of an elite which created these putative kin-groups as a means
of reinforcing its solidarity?78 Any answer to such questions is necessarily
hypothetical, for it is only in the fifth century, in particular through the
evidence of the Twelve Tables and early republican political institutions,
that we can begin even to glimpse these social structures in operation.
Nonetheless, it does remain possible to isolate certain factors which are
closely associated with the patterns of social organization found in this
period, which may have exercised an important influence on their origin
and growth and which certainly contributed either to their maintenance
or to their modification in response to new conditions.

Early Rome practised settled agriculture based on a prevalence of
comparatively small-scale, privately owned farms which provided the
fundamental resource of the great majority of the citizen body. Hence
not only does the primacy of the family unit reflect this pattern of
economic activity but the entire structure of kin-group classification and
the regulation of kin prerogatives show a pre-eminent concern with the
transmission of property. As will be seen, rights of inheritance are closely
correlated with membership of a kin-group (in particular subjection to
the authority of a head of household), the power of an individual to
dispose of his property as he wished at death was limited by custom if not
by law, and the rules governing both guardianship and marriage are
decisively conditioned by issues of property transmission. The apparent
lack of opportunities for personal enrichment and new settlement
through much of the fifth century can only have further reinforced these
concerns as well as confirming the basically static character of wealth
distribution; few could anticipate any substantial improvement in their
fortunes.

It is a further consequence of her comparatively restricted economic
development that, even had she wished to do so, early republican Rome
was in no position to create an elaborate state apparatus which could
have provided positive intervention to protect the individual citizen
against abuse and injury. The entire structure of the law in the Twelve

7 Cf£., e.g., Mommsen 1887-8[Ag1], 11.3-33; Guarino 1973[H4o], 56ff; 272ff.
78 E.g. Botsford 1907[G 20], 663-92.

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 145

Tables implies that already under the monarchy a regime of individual
self-help to maintain personal rights and avenge injuries was deep-
rooted, even probably in cases where the penalty was death;79 and there
was no increase in resources in the fifth century that would have
facilitated greater public initiative in this sphere. Indeed, whereas indi-
vidual monarchs might sometimes have found it politically expedient to
attempt to check flagrant oppression,®° the advent of an aristocratic
political regime offered little prospect of a willingness to develop active
state intervention on behalf of the populace at large, at least on a regular
basis. Moreover, the population of Rome in this period, whatever its
exact numbers (p. 163f), was clearly of modest dimensions. It had
certainly not reached a size where the scale and anonymity of crime were
such as to threaten public safety and make the private pursuit of wrongs
impossible in principle in the majority of cases.

The resultant responsibility on the individual to assert and uphold his
own rights, coupled with his reliance on his own private production for
his livelihood and the absence (again in part through restricted economic
development) of corporate financial institutions or any public or private
organizations of social or economic assistance, inevitably meant that
patterns of co-operative behaviour were a central feature of Roman
social relations, a fact mirrored in the slow development of the law in
significant areas of economic and social life. Moreover, the long-estab-
lished and substantial inequalities of wealth and status within the com-
munity as a whole meant that, alongside the horizontal relationships
between men of broadly similar status, there was a strong impetus to the
development of vertical bonds whereby men of inferior status sought
protection and assistance from their more powerful fellow-citizens.
These patronal relationships were of major significance. Not merely did
they provide the individual with a resource against abuse and thus help to
mitigate social tensions, but in their turn they served to buttress the
power of the aristocracy by making its exercise of patronal responsibility
central to social organization and assistance, by increasing its prestige,
and by incorporating into a position of personal dependence men of
lower status who might otherwise have sought to remedy their plight by
collective action amongst themselves.

Rome was also, however, a citizen community in which, notionally, its
members enjoyed certain common rights, were members of certain
common institutions (e.g. the curiae) and contributed, so far as they were
able, to its military needs. This sense of communal identity had probably

7 Kunkel 1962{G245], 97-130.

© Similarly, if the restrictions on funerary extravagance incorporated in the Twelve Tables go
back to the monarchy (cf. Colonna 1977[B312], 160—1), they may reflect efforts by one or more of the
kings to curb aristocratic excess and resultant social tensions.

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146 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

been strengthened by the development of the city itself as the major
centre of population and the focus of legal, political and religious life.#!
The relatively exposed position of the city and its territory made united
action in its defence essential, and both the adoption of a military
structure centred on a massed heavy-armed infantry and the resultant
institutional changes in the sixth century (p. 103) can only have sharpened
the sense of collective responsibility for the community’s interests on the
part of a substantial element in its population. At the same time the
institution of a more systematic assessment of military responsibility
introduced wealth as a possible formal determinant of status and privi-
lege, although in the face of inherited patterns of social differentiation
and organization this seems to have been unable to effect major changes
of status definition in Roman society as a whole.

The social structures of the early Republic which were influenced by,
or correlated with, these factors must now be treated in detail. The
discussion will first examine those at the individual level before consider-
ing the wider divisions and status groups. It will begin with the bonds
which linked men of broadly equal status (kinship, friendship and other
ties of obligation) and then pass on to those patronal relationships where
the differences of status between the participants were of central signifi-
cance. The development of these vertical bonds in turn contributed to
the essential complexity of the patterns of social differentiation within
the citizen body as a whole, which cannot be reduced toa single common
formula; only the patriciate stands out as enjoying an institutionalized
but increasingly contentious position of privilege.

(b) Family, agnates and clan

Three principal forms of kin-group classification are attested for early
Roman society: (i) the family unit, comprising a male head (paterfamilias)
and those under his authority, in particular his descendants in the male
line and wife (if she passed into his power (én manum) at marriage); (ii) the
agnates, probably defined as the individual’s relatives in the male line up
to the sixth grade (i.e. second cousin); (iii) the ‘clan’ (gens),82 composed of

81 In the countryside the territorial units known as pagi are regarded by Dionysius (see esp. Ant.
Rom: 1v.15) as providing a focus of local defence, religious celebrations and administrative
functions. Much of this is clearly anachronistic, implausible fantasy or based on false premises (Brunt
1969[G5 40],265; Frederiksen 1976[G583], 344-5), but the apparently early festival of the Paganalia
attests their religious identity and their use for other local purposes (e.g. defensive emergencies) is
not to be excluded.

8 In conformity with common usage ‘clan’ is here used to translate the Latin term gens. It is
arguable, however, that such a translation prejudges the size, coherence and collective activity of the
gens and that a term such as ‘lineage’ is preferable (although even that is misleading for the late
Republic when proof of kinship was not in practice a necessary qualification for membership of a
geass: Brunt 1982[Hroz], 3).

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 147

several families all bearing the same name and allegedly related in the
male line.

The Twelve Tables establish that the patriarchal family was by the fifth
century the fundamental social unit. Roman civil law essentially regu-
lated the relations between the heads of such families and private cult (as
it is known from later evidence) also centred around the individual
household (p. 605), reflecting its function as the immediate focus of
communal life and activity. As has been noted, that centrality corre-
sponds closely to an economy based on small-scale, largely self-sufficient
peasant agriculture; the Latin term familia was probably already used, at
least in part, to denote all the persons and property under the control of
the family head (cf. Twelve Tables v.8), thus making explicit its
proprietorial aspect.

The same factor, together with the gerarchic character of Roman
social and political life, is also reflected in the family’s internal structure.
As a legal entity the familia was implicitly defined by reference not to
blood relationship but to the powers exercised for life by the family head
over both the persons and property subject to him, and the patrimonial
rights of children and wives were determined on the basis of their
membership of it. Thus, under the rules for intestate succession, children
and wives subject to a paterfamilias shared equally in his estate as
‘automatic heirs’ (sai heredes), whereas those not subject to him (e.g.
illegitimate children) were entirely excluded; if he had no ‘automatic
heirs’, his property passed to his nearest agnate, or failing that, to all his
clansmen.

Thus an essential connexion was created in Roman law between the
total and perpetual power of the family-head and the intestate inheritance
rights of those free persons subject to him, both reflecting in turn their
continuing economic dependence on the family property. In the fifth
century the probable scarcity of new land for settlement, coupled with
the system of equal division of the inheritance among the ‘automatic
heirs’, could only increase that dependence. It was only later, for
example, presumably in the fourth and third centuries when new terri-
tory periodically became available at some distance from Rome, that
procedures were developed for freeing sons from their father’s power
(which otherwise continued until his death). These gave the son legal
independence (including the right to own land) but also, as an automatic
concomitant, removed his intestate inheritance rights.

The power of the family-head is notorious, extending even to the right
to kill those subject to him. This presumably reflects a strong collective
emphasis on the need for rigorous discipline in the component elements
of the community, not least to regulate the relations between familiae,

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148 4- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

since the heads of households were responsible to each other for the
private actions of those subject to them. Moreover, in later periods at
least their powers could be used to vindicate the family honour where an
individual member had committed a heinous public offence. Nonethe-
less, in the normal course of events paternal power was subject to
important restrictions. Public rights and obligations were not affected
and, given low average life-expectancy, paternal power (patria potestas)
probably ended for many during or soon after childhood. Moreover,
communal attitudes will normally have ensured its reasonable exercise.
The right to kill a descendant, for example, was obviously implemented
only in exceptional circumstances and probably, as later evidence indi-
cates, after the consultation of a family council; although the Twelve
Tables allegedly confirmed the right, they may also have prohibited its
exercise without proper cause.%83

Social attitudes and their legal reflection also controlled the exercise of
property rights. Although the paterfamilias had full powers of disposal of
his property during his lifetime, he could not waste his substance,
whether through lunacy or prodigality. In such a case his nearest agnate
(or, failing that, his clansmen) acted as his supervisor, clearly in their own
interests (as his prospective heirs) or in that of his ‘automatic heirs’.
Moreover, the individual’s discretion in bequeathing his property was
probably strictly limited, although the evidence regarding testamentary
disposition in this period is inadequate and controversial. Twelve Tables
v.3 (‘As he has bequeathed in relation to {his property and the
guardianship of] his possessions, so let the law be’) was later interpreted
as sanctioning the will ‘by bronze and balance’, by which the whole
property was bequeathed, a specific heir instituted and guardians might
be named; but in fact the original provision probably referred only to
bequests of individual items and perhaps the appointment of guardians.®
The wills made before the curiate assembly and on the battlefield were
probably well established but their normal scope is purely conjectural.
That before the assembly can only have been available toa minority, and
it is a reasonable assumption that the battlefield will was originally its
military equivalent®> and therefore similarly restricted in application.
Overall, therefore, the evidence does not suggest a widespread use of
testamentary disposition for the entire estate and there are certainly
positive indications that, as we might expect, intestacy was common, if

8 Table rv.za; cf. Gai. Inst. fr. Augustod. 85-6, Kunkel 1966[G246], 242ff.

% Watson 1975 [G317], 56-60. For other interpretations see e.g. Gaudemet 1983[G217], 109ff
(comitial or libral will); Magdelain 1983(G272], 15 9ff (comitial will). It was believed later that the
Twelve Tables permitted manumission by will (cf. Table vit.12), though the form of will involved is
not specified.

85 Kaser 1971[G240], 1.106; for another possibility cf. Wicacker ap. Watson 1975(G317], 66. 38.

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 149

not the norm. The rules governing wastrels (later at least) applied only to
property which the wastrel had acquired by intestate succession and were
evidently instituted to protect those who would similarly inherit from
him. So also the intestate guardianship of minors and women (who could
not make a will) was exercised by their prospective intestate heirs in their
own interest. Moreover, the ‘automatic heirs’ of intestate succession
were clearly privileged; they were expected to succeed to the property
and therefore did so without any formal act of acceptance. Hence also
Table v.4 (‘if man who has no automatic heir (suas heres) dies intestate,
the nearest agnate shall take the property’®) concentrates on the rules for
intestate succession where there are no ‘automatic heirs’.

Clearly, therefore, the provision for legacies in Table v.3 cannot have
been intended to undermine the position of the heirs. Presumably such
legacies were not as yet ona scale which would seriously jeopardize their
inheritance; whether they served principally to bequeath particular items
(e.g. personal effects) to individual heirs or were left to third parties as a
token of social esteem we cannot say. However, by confirming (or
establishing) the validity of such bequests the Tables did recognize some
rights of the family head over the posthumous disposition of his property
without external sanction; and this in a sense paved the way for the
subsequent creation of the will ‘by bronze and balance’ and for the later
form of adoption before a magistrate. Both of these procedures would
procure an heir, thus enhancing the control of the paterfamilias over the
destiny of his property and undermining the prospects of his agnates and
clansmen. No less significantly, neither procedure required the participa-
tion of the assembly. The older comitial witnessing or approval of wills
and adoptions (p. 105) implies a strong communal interest in, or control
of, the devolution of property and family cult and this may be reflected
also in the ‘court of one hundred’ (centumviri) which comprised judges
drawn equally from the tribes and dealt with inheritance cases, perhaps
from an early date.8’ Practical considerations obviously contributed to
the decay of comitial involvement in such matters but the earlier commu-
nal participation must also reflect the positive interest of the early city-
state and its pre-occupation with upholding the normal succession of
property, not least in the interests of its own manpower (and perhaps
social harmony). In contrast, as Rome expanded and opportunities for
personal enrichment grew, the aristocracy in particular may have found
such restrictions irksome, although it was still expected that descendants
or near relatives would be instituted as heirs.

% For this interpretation of the provision cf. Daube 1964-3[Grgz], 256-7.
7 Kelly 1976{G24q4], 1-39.

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I5o 4- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

The near kin (agnates) will have occupied a position of particular
importance within the individual’s range of social relationships. It was
they, apparently, who were responsible for avenging a man’s murder
since at unintentional homicide the offender had to surrender a ram to
them to avert their revenge.®8 In contrast to the familia, however, the
agnates never enjoyed any corporate existence, each individual being
enmeshed in a variety of such relationships. Agnates had no common
religious rituals and there is no abstract collective noun in Latin to
describe them. Agnatic relationship as such was principally a wider
kinship definition for the purposes of inheritance (and hence
guardianship and supervision) and marriage. Agnatic rights are individ-
ual, not collective, and those in the nearest degree exclude the rest. Thus
the agnates’ rights are secondary to the patriarchal family and tend to
reinforce its primacy since the family property was thereby retained as
close as possible to the original line of male descent.

There was one particular circumstance in which a restricted group of
agnates might act together on a more formal and long-term basis, but
here too it was prior membership of a family group rather than agnatic
relationship as such which was the crucial factor. At intestate inheritance
the ‘automatic heirs’ might leave the estate undivided and exploit it
jointly. Such arrangements were later sometimes associated with pov-
erty, and although that is not a necessary conjunction, progressive
impoverishment may have contributed to their frequency in the early
Republic. They might also, however, allow a more effective exploitation
of larger agricultural units (e.g. through maintenance of a plough team)
or amore diversified pattern of farming; and they may have been popular
where the elder son(s) acted as guardian to his sisters or younger siblings
and worked the whole estate. In all such cases, however, the partnership
is again a secondary: phenomenon, contingent on the prior existence of a
single family unit which forms the common inheritance. It was also ill-
adapted to serve as a permanent institution® since it had no formal head
and each inheriting son could dissolve the partnership at any time by
unilateral application to the courts.”

It is sometimes supposed that the inheritance rights of agnates were an
innovation, perhaps of the Twelve Tables themselves; previously the
clan had inherited immediately in default of ‘automatic heirs’; now the
rights of the near kin were being decisively strengthened.™! Such views

88 Serv. Ecl. 1v.43; Georg. 111.387; Cic. Top. 64 (= Twelve Tables vitt.24a); Fest. 470L, 476L.

89 Cf. Crook 1967[G47], 113-22.

% Gaius’ statement (Dig. x.2.1pr.) that the Twelve Tables first introduced the procedure for the
dissolution of such partnerships cannot be based on reliable knowledge of earlier law and therefore
deserves little credence. 51 For this view see, ¢.g., Michon 1921[G275], 119-64.

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES Igl

are often linked to theories of an early clan ownership of property that
subsequently declined, but they cannot be proven. For although the law
specifies that all clansmen without distinction shall inherit whereas
amongst the agnates it is the nearest alone who qualified, this may merely
reflect the practical difficulty of determining degrees of relationship
beyond the sixth grade, not a primordial regime of collective clan
property. Moreover, a system under which agnates had no specific
inheritance rights would prevent siblings from retaining the whole
property of a brother or sister who died without ‘automatic heirs’; it
would also automatically dissolve a common partnership in such cases.
In view of these obvious deficiencies we need better evidence before we
can assert an earlier absence of specifically agnate inheritance rights
which was then remedied in the early Republic.%

In one respect, however, the position of agnates had significantly
improved in or by the time of the Twelve Tables. Where a woman passed
at marriage under her husband’s control, he acquired full ownership of
any property she possessed. At his death under intestate succession the
wife in turn inherited from him, equally with each child, and came under
the tutelage of his kin. Clearly where the woman already owned property
in her own right such a marriage was highly disadvantageous to her
nearest agnate(s), who would otherwise inherit from her at her death.
They did, of course, act (up to her marriage) as her guardian(s) and had to
authorize any disposal of her property, including probably her con-
clusion of an in manum marriage, but they could not marry her them-
selves; marriages within the seventh degree of relationship were not
permitted.93 Marriage to other clansmen was allowed but there is no clear
evidence that it was mandatory even for widows or heiresses; the
apparent later requirement that a freedwoman could not marry outside
her patron’s gens without express permission (Livy xxx1x.19.5) cannot be
generalized to free-born clan members at a much earlier date without
supporting evidence. Much here depends on our view of the relative
rights of clansmen and agnates in the archaic period, particularly with
respect to inheritance, but little else suggests that the claims of agnates
would be deliberately denied in order to favour other clansmen, and the
ban on patrician—plebeian intermarriage in the Twelve Tables, together
with the probable right of intermarriage with Latins (p. 270), may indicate

92 On the later restrictive interpretation of the rule regarding the nearest agnate (cited by De
Zulueta 195 3[Gzoo}, 11.122—3; Watson 1975(G317]}, 68f) cf. Yaron 1957[G333}, 385-9.

% Cf. Livy, fr. 12W; Tac. Aan. xu.6; Plut. Quaest. Rom. 6; Ulpian, Tit. 5.6; August. De Cw. D.
xv.16, While we have no reason to suppose that female intestate inheritance was a later innovation
and it provides the most satisfactory explanation of ‘free’ marriage (below), its combination with a
bar on marriage to the near kin is remarkable. It may in part reflect an earlier abundance of land for
settlement and occupation.

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152 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

that marriage outside the clan was common.™ In practice families may
have regularly contracted in manum marriages within a restricted group
but if, for example, a system of preferential cross-cousin marriage was
ever practised at Rome,™ there is no clear evidence for it in this period,
and both later practice and the wording of Livy, fr. 12W suggest that in
the mid-Republic at least marriage to near cognates” and not merely
agnates was barred. If sucha strongly ‘open’ marriage-regime did obtain
in the early Republic, it presumably functioned as a means by which the
individual family enlarged the range of social relationships on whose
assistance and suppotft it might call. From the community’s viewpoint it
may also have checked any separatist tendencies of kin-groups and
reinforced a wider social cohesion, particularly among the aristocracy.
The disadvantage remained, however, that in this form of marriage, if
the woman owned property in her own right, the claims of her agnates
were definitively extinguished, whether or not she (re)married inside the
clan.

The secondary, ‘free’ form of marriage, already found in the Twelve
Tables (v1.5) and perhaps in some measure a reaction to growing
pressure on land resources, avoided this inconvenience. Here the hus-
band acquired ownership only of the dowry and had no legal control
over his wife, who remained under the authority of her paterfamilias or (if
he was dead) her guardian. In consequence, she retained her inheritance
rights in her original kin-group and did not succeed to her husband’s
estate. Her kinsmen’s claim to her property was preserved and they could
now control her remarriage if her husband died. For her husband’s
family there was the compensation that she had no claim to a share in his
estate, which might have passed out of their control if she remarried.®

For the role. of the clan (gens) even in the fifth century evidence is scant.
Individual clans in the mid- and late Republic might have a common cult
(p. 621), burial place or customs, but even these are often limited to a
particular branch or to the patrician clan members, and the prevalence of
such foci then or earlier is impossible to determine. There may have been
a variety of practice and, as a corollary, considerable variation in the
degree of internal cohesion within each clan. Hence even if these

* August. De civ. D. xv.16 is too vague, in terms of chronology, reference and authority, to
demonstrate the contrary.

95 Cf. perhaps the use of adjinis (‘neighbour’) as the generic term for relations by marriage.

% Benveniste 1973[A14], 1.223; Moreau 1978{G116], 41-54.

97 T.e. relatives traced through the mother’s line as well as the father’s.

% The particular respect accorded to those who remained widowed and apparent emphasis on the
permanence of marriage in the early period (Williams 1958[G164], 16-29), reflected in the limited
availability of divorce (Watson 196;[G313], 38-50), may partly reflect the desire to avoid this
eventuality in marriages where the wife came into the husband’s manus.

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 153

practices reflect an erstwhile solidarity within a few clans, it certainly
cannot be assumed that all acted as close-knit units in the early Republic;
there is, for example, no good evidence that the gens functioned as an
economic unit in this period, beyond presumably the social obligation of
mutual assistance when necessary. The known clan cults do not mark it
out as fulfilling a central economic or social purpose comparable to that
of the household; their function is rather to enhance its prestige and
perhaps strengthen its sense of identity. Whether clans as such co-
operated in private military ventures at this date is also doubtful. The
Roman procedure for the declaration of war, which centres on demands
for the restoration of property seized by an enemy, may reflect an original
situation in which conflict often originated in the appropriation of booty
by private individuals or groups but if so, the danger that such enter-
prises might implicate the whole community in a major confrontation
must early have prompted attempts to curtail or at least disown them.
Rome’s early fifth-century treaty with the Latins (p. 274), for example,
would certainly preclude such activities against her immediate neigh-
bours south of the Tiber, although such ventures might be permitted in
the raiding warfare with the encroaching hill peoples (p. 291). Moreover,
while legend portrays a number of sixth- and fifth-century individuals in
Central Italy sufficiently powerful to engage in ventures of this type (p.
96f) and no doubt clansmen figured prominently in their following, the
only evidence for common clan action as such is the expedition of the
Fabii against Veientan territory in 478 B.c. (Livy 11.48.8ff; Dion. Hal.
Ant. Rom. 1x.15.2ff; etc.). Another version (Diod. x1.53.6), however,
turned that episode into an operation by the Roman army, with Fabii at
most merely prominent in it. That may simply reflect efforts to regularize
the event, but the alternative possibility, that members of the clan
subsequently exaggerated their own role, perhaps to explain the ending
of their successive run of consulships (485-479 B.c.) and under the
influence of the Spartan stand at Thermopylae, cannot be entirely ruled
out. In any case, this is the only possible evidence for clan military action
and does not necessarily reflect a common pattern; as their extraordi-
nary domination of office at this date perhaps suggests, the Fabii may
have enjoyed an unusual degree of clan solidarity, and their calamitous
defeat would have acted as a powerful warning to would-be imitators.

Probably the principal function of the clan, at least in the fifth century,
was the mutual aid (social, political and economic) of its individual
members, together perhaps with a certain social and political éclat among
the aristocracy. Individual clans, for example, seem once to have had

® Even if it does, this was clearly not the only form which private military ventures took (p. 292):

here, as in other spheres, (putative) kinship bonds co-exist with, and fulfil similar functions to, other
forms of individual association.

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154 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

charge of particular public cults or rituals (e.g. the Luperci) and member-
ship of the patriciate itself was apparently determined by clan.!© While
the clan was not restricted to the patriciate (p. 99), an aristocracy whose
stress on ancestry inevitably brought a keener awareness of clan links
(real or alleged) may well have found it a particularly useful institution in
social and political contexts. The apparent bar on two clansmen holding
office together throughout much of the fifth century (p. 206) perhaps
indicates its potential value in this regard, but our evidence does not
permit us either to assess directly the practical significance of clan units in
the early Republic or to discern whether its importance increased or
diminished in this period. Those who regard the clan as a (or even the)
primordial form of social grouping will naturally see the fragmentary
evidence for its fifth-century role as a sign of its progressive decline. If,
on the other hand, it is viewed as a more recent, largely aristocratic
epiphenomenon, that role may be accorded greater prominence than our
evidence strictly warrants. Whatever its earlier history, however, it
would be rash to assume that its development and functions followed a
rigidly schematic course in any given period or that its role conformed to
a uniform pattern in all cases. In an age where the deficiencies of state
control and protection reinforced the individual’s reliance on his social
associates, the clan might naturally play a significant role but not
necessarily or solely as an entity in its own right. Rather than the clan per
se acting as a unit in social or political life, greater importance may often
have attached to the individual links which it created, enabling each
member to call on a wide circle of putative kinsmen as and when
required. At the least it is clear that Roman social organization even
among the aristocracy cannot be reduced to the relationships obtaining
between a series of wider kin-groupings of which each individual
household was merely a component.

It is a corollary of the secondary character of agnatic and clan bonds in the
early Republic that it would be misleading to regard kinship as the
determining basis of Roman social organization in the sense that such
bonds necessarily formed the overwhelmingly pre-eminent form of
social categorization. Rather, alongside kinship there will have been
other modes of social grouping often fulfilling many of the same
functions; and patterns of mutual co-operation in particular are likely to
have developed outside as well as within the kin-group. Such practices as
work-exchange, minor loans or assistance in times of difficulty will have

100 Cf. the distinction between ‘greater’ and ‘lesser’ clans (p. tor).

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 155

been regarded as part of the normal social arrangements and duties, and,
initially at least, as entirely outside the law. Hence, for example, both the
custom of making informal loans without interest and the apparent
slowness of the law in the provision of actions for their return.!°
Similarly, the importance of personal sureties and guarantors in
contractual dealings presupposes the existence of individuals willing to
assume a potentially ruinous personal liability, and the grounding in
‘good faith’ of many legal actions introduced from the third century
(however that is exactly interpreted) must imply a centrality of social
norms and obligations which was presumably long established.

What must, therefore, be assumed is that already in the early period
Roman social relations were dominated by a nexus of informal and
personal bonds of mutual obligation broadly comparable to those famil-
iar from the mid- and late Republic. The obligation imposed by the
receipt of a service to repay it as and when the benefactor needed
assistance, the potentially permanent bond of mutual expectation of
assistance thereby created and the multiplicity of such connexions which
any one individual might contract and inherit were fundamental to social
life. Their rationale was the need of the individual for protection and aid,
but they also reinforced the cohesion of the community and their basis
was a strong collective sense of the rights and duties involved.

The importance of such ties is perhaps most evident in the pursuit of
wrongs. Whether or not the origins of Roman legal procedure are to be
sought in an initially unregulated regime of ‘self-help’, early Roman law
clearly presupposes the private pursuit of wrongs and condones the use
of force to assert one’s rights where this was deemed necessary or
justified. Indeed, for the most part the individual paterfamilias alone
could initiate legal action for any wrong he or those subject to him had
suffered. He was responsible for bringing the defendant to court, for
producing witnesses (whom the magistrate would not compel to attend)
and if successful, for executing the judgement. The defendant was no less
responsible for the conduct of his own case.

Underlying this personal responsibility for seeking legal redress lay a
strong element of the desire for vengeance. Indeed, the Twelve Tables
attest clearly the desire of the law to moderate and control the exaction of
revenge (cf. Lucr. v.1136ff); whatever the extent of their own innova-
tions to this effect,!°? they expressly prescribe a pecuniary penalty in
many instances, regulate in detail the circumstances under which phys-
ical vengeance is permitted and make special provision for unintentional

101 Daube 1973[G1g4], 129-30.

102 In particular falio (below) need not once have hada general application which the Tables chen
curtailed (cf. Diamond 1971[G201], 98-101; 398-9; whether Cato, Orig. fr. 81P (from Book tv)
refers to Rome is uncertain).

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156 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

homicide. Nonetheless, revenge continued to be an accepted motive for
legal and extra-legal action, most evidently perhaps in the provision that
the perpetrator of one type of personal injury (#embrum ruptum) was
liable to suffer the same injury himself (¢a/s0) unless he could persuade his
victim to come to some alternative arrangement (Table vii.z). There
were even circumstances in which the exaction of revenge was tolerated
without formal authorization: the Decemviral permission to kill the thief
who comes by night or the manifest thief who resists arrest (Table
VIII.12—13) reveals a readiness to countenance direct action where the
victim’s person is potentially at risk.

Moreover, in both asserting and contesting a disputed right, both
parties may be permitted to employ force. Where, for example, an
individual claimed authority over a slave or free person he was entitled to
seize that person and those who contested his claim were no less entitled
to resist. The action for claiming ownership of any object was itself
framed on the model of a physical struggle for possession. Similarly, in
an action against a person, if the defendant resists the plaintiff's summons
to court the plaintiff is entitled to haul him off physically (later a ritual but
probably real enough in origin); he can be prevented, however, by the
intervention of a vindex (‘champion’) who himself ‘gives notice of force’
(vim dicere) and repels the plaintiff's physical hold on the defendant. So
also at execution of judgement the plaintiff leads a defaulting defendant
off into confinement unless again a vindex intervenes.

These procedures betray the readiness with which legal action was
conceived in terms of the metaphor of force and the law itself in terms of
regulating the conditions under which such force might be employed. In
this context the assistance of neighbours, friends and kinsmen becomes
paramount. At the lowest level witnesses were needed at summons (if the
defendant resisted), in the legal suit itself, at the immediate killing of the
manifest thief who resisted arrest,!°3 at informal house search, etc.
Defendants might require champions, guarantors or sureties, all willing
to assume some form of personal liability. A man seized as a slave had to
have his claim to free status asserted by a third party, whilst the
regulations governing the public production of the judgement debtor on
three successive market days seem similarly to presuppose a strong social
obligation on his immediate circle to extract him from his desperate
plight.

Moreover, the more support an individual could muster, the greater
his chance of avoiding litigation by direct assertion or defence (by force if
necessary) of the right claimed. An individual faced with oppressive

103. Table virt.13. Originally neighbours may have been summoned to provide assistance but here
their presence is a safeguard against a charge of wanton killing.

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 1§7

action by a magistrate or private citizen might appeal to the protection of
his fellow-citizens in general (cf. p. 220). In the pursuit ofa private wrong
the offended party might organize a ritualized cry at his opponent’s door
or against him personally in public to shame him into meeting his
obligations; the Twelve Tables (11.3) expressly permit such a shout
outside the door of the defaulting witness. More generally, popular fury
might spontaneously erupt against those deemed to have flouted the
social order.!% Later evidence suggests that such demonstrations com-
monly took the form of public abuse outside the miscreant’s door but in
extreme cases might involve the burning of his house or even lynching.

It isa mark of the public humiliation which such demonstrations could
inflict and the force of public opinion to which they appealed that the
Twelve Tables may even have prohibited the singing or composition of
public chants directed at an individual on pain of death.!05 That in turn
would imply the high value attached to personal reputation, particularly
among the aristocracy to whom personal honour was no doubt of great
importance and against whom this may have been the only weapon
available to the poorer would-be litigant unless he enjoyed the support of
a powerful patron. It is no less significant that here the assistance of the
citizen community as such may be invoked on behalf either of the
individual or the social order and that ‘private’ conduct is not exempt
from public scrutiny and disapprobation. Although for the most part the
citizen is reliant on his immediate circle for aid and protection, he may on
occasion be able, or be forced, to transcend this narrower range; beyond
kinsmen and clan, beyond friends and neighbours there may lie the
common interest of his fellow-citizens in his defence.

(d) Comrades and dependants

The forms of mutual assistance already described must have character-
ized the aristocracy no less than the rest of the citizenry. Dionysius speaks
of hetaireiai (brotherhoods or factions) among the Roman patriciate, Livy
of their kinsmen, friends and comrades. These motifs may reflect Greek
or later Roman experience, but both historians have rightly sensed the
importance which such ties will have had both for the individual and for
the nexus of bonds thus created within the aristocracy as a whole.
Occasionally such relationships may have emerged from a collective
context, particularly in the religious sphere. Cult brotherhoods such as
the Arval Brethren (p. 109) may have implied mutual bonds extending

104 Cf. Usener 1901(G152], 1-28. Even within the law the culpability of specific types of action
tested principally on tacit genera! recognition of their delictal character (p. 118).

10 Table viit.16; Fraenkel 1925(G211}, 185-200 (= 1964, 11.400-15). Contra, e.g. Wieacker
1956[G3 26], 462ff.

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158 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

beyond their immediate cult function as may the aristocratic fraternities
(sodalitates) which met for ritual performances and common feasts.
According to Gaius (Dig. x.viI.22.4= Twelve Tables vitt.27), the
Twelve Tables sanctioned the existence of sodalitates provided they did
not conflict with public legislation. Gaius interprets the provision as
embracing all clubs but the term soda/itas may originally have character-
ized specifically cult fraternities,! perhaps largely of an aristocratic
character. If so, the concern of the Tables with their possible violation of
public law (whatever originally that meant) suggests that their activities
might in practice extend beyond their immediate cult context.

For the most part, however, ties of comradeship and obligation will
have been individual both in origin and nature. The potential importance
of marriage customs in fostering a web of such relationships within the
aristocracy has already been noted (p. 152) and we must assume that at this
level also the individual contracted or inherited a network of personal
alliances based on mutual obligation which, by their sheer number and
complexity, reinforced the cohesion of the elite. It may be in this context
that we should locate the socii (‘associates’) or sodales (‘comrades’) of a P.
Valerius attested on the recently discovered inscription from Satricum
(p. 97) but regrettably we cannot further define the nature of the bond
involved here. Was it a temporary or long-term association (of the type
envisaged by the Twelve Tables)? Was it exclusive in character? How
great a degree of cohesion was involved? What was the relative status of
those concerned? Whether or not he was Roman, had Valerius exercised
leadership over his fellows and if so, of what type? It is tempting but
speculative to connect this inscription with the literary evidence which
suggests that on occasion leading figures in Central Italy in the sixth or
early fifth centuries B.c. might acquire bands of comrades, sometimes of
comparatively high social status,!°” and that these bands might be used
for private ventures, without reference to a particular community or even
in open opposition to its interests (p. 94f). Ifsuch bands were an authentic
feature of this period and were to be found also at Rome,! this would
explain the patriciate’s evident concern with individual usurpation at the
start of the Republic and the comparatively early legends alleging
individual attempts at tyranny. Whereas marriage practices and other
social ties might help to cement the bonds within the aristocracy as a
whole, here the individual association, temporarily at least, assumes so
particular and close a character that it may even threaten the internal
stability of that aristocracy.

106 Cf. Marquardt-Wissowa 1881~5{A77], 11.134—-7. For the Satricum inscription as revealing a
possible instance cf. Guarducci 1981(Bz27], 479-89.

107 Cf. ILS 212 (Mastarna and Caeles Vibenna).

108 The attested cases all involve men who were at that stage outsiders.

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 139

It is also in this context of personal obligation that the ties which bound
together men of different status in a relationship of patron and client
must be set, although the evidence for early clientship is insufficient to
elucidate its character fully since the two principal ancient texts are
intrinsically unreliable.!0

(i) Dionysius attributes to Romulus regulations in which the
obligations of the patron comprised primarily support in lawsuits while
in return the client afforded his benefactor financial assistance (Ant.
Rom. 11.9-11). This account merits little credence. It appears in an
artificial, idealizing context which seeks to turn Romulus into a legislat-
ing founder of the Greek type; the references to monetary contributions,
to public fines and to the pursuit and expenses of office are clearly
anachronistic for the early regal period; and Dionysius proceeds to
record individual patronage of communities and peoples in terms which
are specifically relevant to late republican conditions. Such relationships
can in any case hardly have been the subject of formal state definition
from the outset as Dionysius pretends, particularly given the restricted
use of legislative enactment in the early period. Only the law penalizing
breach of faith by patron or client merits consideration as a possible early
provision and that, in part at least, duplicates a regulation elsewhere
attributed (not necessarily correctly) to the Twelve Tables (virt.21).

Dionysius’ account must, therefore, be a reconstruction. It is presum-
ably founded in part on mid-republican conditions since he evidently
believed that this form of clientship lasted down to the late second
century, but it also incorporates etymological speculation and mis-
statement. Thus Dionysius’ belief that patrons could take legal action on
behalf of clients can hardly be credited given the strictness of the rules
governing the appointment of personal representatives under the older
legis actio procedures; it is probably a misleading formulation of the
patron’s later right to act as his client’s advocate (e.g., Plaut. Men. 571ff),
perhaps prompted by the assimilation of the patron’s position to that of a
father. That comparison in turn clearly depends on the etymological
derivation of patronus (‘patron’) from pater (‘father’), just as the belief,
shared by Cicero (Rep. 11.16), that plebeians were initially all in clientage
to individual patricians will derive from a tradition which equated the
patroni with the patres/patricii (cf. Fest. 262L).

(ii) Festus (288L; 289L) derives the name pares (‘fathers’), applied to
the Roman senate, from the fact that Romulus’ senators had granted
parcels (partes) of land to the poor as if to their own sons. This passage,

109 The following discussion has been much strengthened through access to an unpublished

treatment of republican clientage by Professor P. A. Brunt (see now id. The Fall of the Roman Republic
(Oxford, 1988) 382-442).

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160 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

which clearly has in mind the identification of senators (patres) and
patrons (patroni), rests on a complex of etymological speculations: the
play on patres—partes, the equation of patronus and pater (with again the
consequent assimilation of the client’s position to that of a son), even
perhaps the ancient derivation of c/iens (‘client’) from colere (‘to farm’ as
well as ‘to show respect’).!!0 Festus cannot, therefore, be used to create an
elaborate juristic model in which the client, like a son, received land as a
revocable gift (precarium) from his patron!!! since the basic comparison
of client and son itself rests on spurious conjecture.

The annalists record clients as an important factor in patrician suprem-
acy in the early Republic and purport to show something of their role in
political and military affairs, but they provide few clues to the character
of the bond itself. We are therefore compelled to rely largely on inference
from apparently old established features of the patron—client bond as it
existed later between individual free-born citizens.!!2 Even this allows
tentative inference only at a general level since its precise form(s) may
have changed to meet new conditions. In particular it was held in
antiquity that clients had been much more closely tied to their patrons in
the early and mid-Republic than was true later (so apparently Dionysius).
Traditionalists in the second century B.c. might put obligations to a
client above those to blood relatives (Cato, Orat. fr. 200 Malc.) anda rigid
taboo on legal action between patron and client is still attested then. The
hereditary character which the relationship still sometimes assumed in
the mid-Republic may also indicate the early closeness of the bond.

Nonetheless, the later form assumed by clientship indicates that it was
(in theory at least) a voluntary relationship which conferred on the
patron no formal rights against the client’s person or property.!!3 The
term patronus itself, although again perhaps suggesting a familial charac-
ter to the association, need imply only a protective or gubernatorial
function, not anything comparable to paternal power. Similarly, the fact
that the client is said later to be in fide to his patron may convey no more
than that the latter’s position is one of protection deriving from a
position of socio-economic superiority and based on social obligation (it
can denote no more in the late republican contexts in which it appears).
The client bond was not, therefore, akin to serfdom;!'* patronage did
not, so far as is known, affect the client’s citizen status, personal or

"0 Serv. Aen. v1.609; Comm. Eins. gramm. suppl. 216.24; Lydus, Mag. 1.20; Isid. Orig. x.5 3; cf. Sen.
Ep. xtvur.18; Pliny, HN xxxrv.17. 11) Mommsen 1864{Grr5], 366.

"2 Other forms of ‘patron—client’ relationships (notably that of freedman and ex-master) may
have varied to suit their particular context and function and should not be used in this connexion.

13° The circumstances of the case cited in Cic. De Or. 1.177 are too obscure (cf. Badian 1958[A8],
7-9) to attest patronal rights of inheritance even in the (much later) period to which it refers.

4 Dionysius’ comparison with the penestai of Thessaly and shefes of early Athens (Ant. Rom.
11.9.2) is principally concerned to point up the difference.

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 1G1

property rights nor did he become a member of (or the client of) his
patron’s gens. He may even, as later, have been able to enjoy more than
one patron. Had clients regularly received land grants (as Festus sug-
gests), one might expect some recompense in the form of share-cropping
or periodic labour on the patron’s estate but there is no evidence for such
a system. If grants were made to clients, therefore, they were probably
gifts for which no fixed return was required; but in any case the frequency
and even existence of such benefactions entirely escapes us.

In general it may be said that any formalized position of power
(patrimonial or personal) enjoyed by the patron or a relationship in
which economic exchange was overtly and as such the definitive factor,
would so conflict with the later putative character of the patron~client
bond that we should hesitate to attribute either to its early republican
counterpart, particularly in the absence both of concrete evidence and of
a satisfactory explanation for the subsequent transformation of the
institution into its later form.'!5 There the obligations involved are
founded on social expectation, not legalized power, and the services
exchanged between patron and client take the form of gifts and mutual
aid as required. The traditional ranking of obligations among those to
relatives and guest-friends perhaps suggests that the relationship had had
that character from an early date; although c/iens always implied
dependence,!6 it denoted a relationship which should, in this applica-
tion, be based on mutual respect and obligation between fellow-citizens.
It is, of course, possible that early clientage was a much more formalized
and overtly exploitative relationship than the later ideal, but our evi-
dence provides no firm basis for assuming that this was so, at least in
principle,!'? and a number of factors can be cited which would tend to
influence the character of the bond to the client’s advantage, at least in a
fifth-century context. The existence of a substantial, apparently indepen-
dent stratum in Roman society which formed the backbone of the plebs,
developed its own sense of identity and gradually created its own
mechanisms for seeking individual and collective redress (p. 212f) implies
that clientship (at least to a patrician patron) was not universal. Together
with aristocratic rivalry, this may have encouraged competition for the
adhesion of clients, who, if they were men of some substance, might also
have alternative or supplementary sources of assistance in the continuing
obligations of kinsmen, neighbours and friends. And more generally, the

"5 For other views cf., e.g., Mommsen 1859[Gi15], 322-79; Meier 1966[A78], 24-9; Magdelain
1971[Grog], 103-27; Torelli 1974-5[G148], esp. 33-6; Rouland 1979[G134], 23-110.

16 The etymology of the word and its implications are, however, disputed: Richard 1978(H76},
159-60.

"17 That the Twelve Tables supposedly sought to reinforce the bond by providing a sanction at
least against patrons who violated it (Table vi11.21) does not imply a radically different character to
the bond itself.

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162 4. ROMEIN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

corporate traditions of the community, especially in the context of the
city-state, may have helped to restrict abuse and exploitation. Indeed, a
putative basis of social obligation between patron and client may be
precisely the means whereby the fact of dependence, which the need for
protection and assistance created, was integrated into the structure of the
citizen community without at the same time undermining it. In contrast,
debt-bondage, which did involve formal subjection and manifest exploi-
tation, created sufficient social tensions to prompt its abolition at the end
of the fourth century.

As later, legal assistance must have been a major benefit to the client in
the early Republic when the difficulties in pursuing a lawsuit were
considerable, particularly for the ordinary citizen (p. 233f); but at a wider
level also, the protection of the powerful was the best guarantee that the
individual’s rights would not be infringed, as well as a potential resource
when other forms of assistance were required. In return, the patron
might anticipate political or other support but above all prestige and
approbation as a benefactor able to attract and maintain a following. As
such clientship may have operated at relatively high social levels, particu-
larly if (as the annalists suppose) clients were a major source of political
support. That belief may be mere conjecture, an attempt to explain the
patrician ability to counteract and frustrate the plebs, but if so, it is
plausible; the patrician retention of power until the early fourth century
is far more readily explicable if collectively they were able to muster
substantial numbers of dependants.!18 Dionysius even supposes that they
took the field when the plebs refused to serve in the army. That again may
be conjecture but it is hardly a retrojection based on the exceptional later
instances of politicians raising regular military forces from their clients
(essentially Scipio in 134 and Pompey in 83 B.c.) and may represent a dim
echo of the use of personal followings in a military context in the early
period.!!9 This does not, of course, exclude the possibility of much
humbler dependants (for whom the protection and other aid afforded
would be still more crucial) but they would bring less obvious benefit to
the patron and if the relationship functioned at these levels, it apparently
did little to prevent impoverishment and subsequent exploitation
through debt-bondage.

Similarly, we cannot tell whether the patron—client relationship over-

118 However, the notion, found occasionally in the sources, that the clients of an individual
patron (or of patrons belonging to a single gens) might run into several thousands is pure fantasy.
Given the likely population levels and patterns of client distribution they can have numbered no
more than one or two hundred even in the most exceptional cases, and probably in practice clientship
was on a very much smaller scale still.

"9 Cf. also e.g. Fest. 450L. Conceivably such practices had been more common in the less
urbanized areas of Italy in historical times: cf. Latte 1936[G639], 68f=id. Kizine Schriften 349;
Salmon 1967[}106], 83f; below, p. 292.

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 163

lapped with, or ran parallel to, other ties, how large the category of
patrons was or from which social groups they were drawn. It should not,
however, be assumed that patronage was necessarily the prerogative of a
very few or even limited to the patriciate. That the patriciate as a whole
did succeed in holding individual ambition and power reasonably in
check may indicate a wide distribution of dependants within its ranks and
although its political control gave it a particular advantage, the gradual
emergence of a powerful plebeian leadership may in part rest on, or have
encouraged, the adhesion of clients of their own, particularly if patrician
followings were largely recruited at the higher social levels.

(e) Social stratification

Within the free-born Roman citizen body the patterns of social differen-
tiation can be sketched only in the crudest outline, not least because the
literary sources offer little except vague and unreliable data. As a
preliminary, however, we should consider the likely pattern of wealth
distribution and here comparatively solid evidence is provided by the so-
called ‘Servian organization’ in which the entire adult male citizenry was
assigned to one of five c/asses (with some additional units, particularly for
the cavalry and for the poorest citizens (pro/etarii)) according to wealth.
Each ¢/assis contained a given number of units (‘centuries’), half for the
older men (seniores: those over forty-five), half for the younger (éaniores)
(Table 2). The literary sources ascribe this classification to Servius
Tullius, but whilst membership of a c/assis continued to determine
liability for military service, what they describe is clearly a later, essen-
tially political structure which developed out of an earlier, much simpler
‘hoplite’ force (cassis) with accompanying cavalry and light-armed
troops (p. 92f; 103f).

In the fifth century Rome probably needed to have available all
possible manpower and therefore kept the qualifications for service to a
minimum; leather, for example, may have been widely used for some
defensive equipment. Nonetheless, the ability to purchase the necessary
armour presumes ownership of property some way above subsistence
level and the employment of such a ‘hoplite’ force therefore implies the
existence of a substantial peasantry. The size of this class and its strength
in proportion to the total population are, however, impossible to esti-
mate. Whether even the single legion of Gooo infantry had been achieved
by the fifth century cannot be determined. At the start of the republican
period the maximum extent of Roman territory was ¢. 822 km.? (and did
not significantly increase until the late fifth century) but too little is
known of its agricultural resources, pattern of exploitation and degree of
market development to assess even the total population; and even

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64 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

Table 2. The centuriate organization according to Livy

Class Number of centuries
eo ee SS Wealth Arms
qualification
junior senior (in asses)
I 40° 40 100,000 helmet, round shield,

greaves, breastplate,
spear and sword
+2 centuries of engineers (fabri)

II 10 10 75 ,000—100,000 oblong shield; no breast-
plate. Otherwise as
Class I

Il 10 10 50,000—75 ,000 no greaves. Otherwise
as Class II

IV 10 10 25,000—50,000 spear and javelin

Vv 15 15 11,00—25,000 slings and stones

+3 centuries of supernumeraries (primarily or entirely musicians)
1 century of proletarii (below 11,000 asses)
18 centuries of cavalry with public horse

Source: Livy 1.43.1ff; cf. Dion. Hal. Anat. Rom. tv.16—-18.

attempts to assess the likely maximum population are bedevilled by
uncertainties, particularly over cereal yields and the extent of land in
cultivation.!20 However, retrospective application of the highest popula-
tion density figures for Central Italy in 225 B.c.!2! suggests that even with
a territory of 822 km.? Rome would have found considerable difficulty in
mustering a ‘hoplite’ force of 6o00!?2 and could have fielded a signifi-
cantly lower total. It has been argued! that the progressive increase in

12 Thus the calculation of Ampolo 1980[Cz], 27~30, who suggests 35,000 as the maximum total
population, assumes that only ¢. 3 of the land was under cultivation, that the net surplus of cereal
production was of the order of 315-67 kg. per hectare (problematic: p. 121), that the entire
population lived at subsistence level and (implausibly: p. 120) that there was a universal annual
fallow. Most seriously, it underestimates subsistence needs (which should for this purpose be based
on modern calculations of the level required for long-term viability rather than the starvation rations
of the Twelve Tables or the Syracusan stone quarries). The cumulative effect of these uncertainties
cannot be estimated, but if modern subsistence needs are taken as the basis (p. 121 n. 22), it seems
unlikely that the free population can have exceeded Ampolo’s figure even if somewhat higher cereal
yields and a somewhat greater area under cultivation are assumed. The actual free population may
well have been markedly lower.

421. That of the Latins (Brunt 1971[{Az1}, 54) which would yield a total free population of ¢. 33,000
on an area of 822 km.?2, although the greater incidence of slavery in the third century, the disparity in
the areas compared and possible changes in the density and patterns of settlement may all affect the
comparison.

12 A maximum free population of 33,000 correlates with an adult male population of ¢. 10,000
(Brunt, loc. cit.). This, however, not only includes sensores (not necessarily exempt from regular field
service at this stage) but the large proportion (possibly a majority) who did not qualify for service in
the heavy infantry or cavalry. 13 E.g. Sumner 1970[G728}, 67-78.

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 165

the numbers of the consular tribunate from three (444 B.C.) to six (406
B.C.) reflects an increase in army strength from an original complement
of 3000 to one of 6000 in the later fifth century but this is both unproven
and unlikely. Rome enjoyed only a modest increase in territory in this
period and it is difficult to believe that she had previously set the
qualifications for ‘hoplite’ service so high that she could now double her
effective manpower by their reduction. Clearly the figure of six thousand
was reached before the creation of a second legion (for which it also
provided the notional complement) but that may be no earlier than the
mid-fourth century; if this division of military forces is connected with
the dual consulship, it may reflect the re-institution of that office in 366
rather than its (controversial) initial creation in the late sixth century.124

The ‘Servian organization’ also suggests the existence of large num-
bers of citizens well below the ‘hoplite’ level. Its structure was designed
to leave the decisive political voice with the cavalry and the more
prosperous heavy infantry by allocating a much smaller number of
centuries to each of the four lowest classes. Yet the thirty centuries of the
lowest class (V) exceed those assigned to each of classes II-IV. Presum-
ably, therefore, those qualified only for the most basic light-armed
service were far too numerous to be confined to the twenty notional
centuries allocated to the preceding three classes. The actual ratios
involved cannot be determined but the implication that there were
substantial numbers of very small property-holders can scarcely be
avoided; and even if the ‘Servian organization’ in its developed form may
be no older than the fourth century, the position clearly cannot have been
radically different in the fifth, when the general economic pressures were
probably more severe. Moreover, Class V did not include the poorest
citizens, the pro/etarii, used for military service only in an emergency.
Their numbers are unknown,!25 but they were at least sufficiently
numerous to be the subject of a special provision in the Twelve Tables
(1.4). The overall impression is that a distinguishable proportion of the
population lived at or not far above subsistence level and this accords
with the prevalence of debt, the practice of selling children and the
possible growing pressure for the acquisition or at least use of new
territory for settlement.

Equally important, however, to the political conflicts of the early
Republic are the possible differentiations among the comparatively
wealthy. An aristocratic lifestyle and the exercise of political responsibil-
ities implied a substantial level of wealth and the leisure which accom-
panied it. The naming of rural tribes after patrician clans (p. 179) may

124 Cf. above, p. 104; see further below, p. 248.

128 Dionysius’ belief (Ant. Rom. 1v.18.2; vil.59.6; but cf. v.67.5) that they accounted for half the
population (cf. also Cic. Rep. 11.40) must be based, at best, on later conditions.

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166 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

reflect important land-holdings by their members in the area concerned.
Certainly the regulations of the Twelve Tables restricting funerary
extravagance attest families able to afford such flamboyant and presti-
gious demonstrations as well as other aristocratic activities (notably the
racing of chariots). Yet not all patricians may have been able to match the
affluence of their peers. In particular, the rapid eclipse of many families,
apparent from the consular fasts, may in part reflect economic weakness,
exacerbated by the system of partible inheritance, in manum marriage and
dowry provision. Moreover, the Decemviral prohibition on full mar-
riages between patricians and plebeians (p. 180) and the subsequent
success of certain plebeian families in establishing political dynasties
suggest that some of these could already match the economic status of
many patricians.

As the preceding paragraph implies, distinctions of wealth cannot neces-
sarily be correlated with differentiation of status in early republican
Rome. Indeed, it is possible to assemble from the Twelve Tables and
other evidence a variety of antitheses which express differing modes of
status classification or particular social relationships within the citizen
body in the early Republic: patrician and plebeian, patron and client,
classis and infra classem (p. 103), cavalry and infantry, assidui and proletarit,
seniors and juniors. Most of these contrasts are specific to one particular
context (political, social or military) and cannot be correlated with each
other or, usually, extended beyond their original reference. That patrons
and clients were originally identified with patricians and plebeians, for
example, is merely spurious ancient conjecture (p. 159). Similarly, there
is no direct evidence that the pairing ‘people and plebs’ (populus plebesque)
in certain later formulae goes back to the early Republic and shows that
the plebs were then the infra classem, i.e. those outside the army (the
populus); the pairing would prove only that the two terms were not co-
extensive, not that they referred to two entirely distinct groups, and may
in any case be a later pleonasm deriving from the use of ‘populus’ and
‘plebs’ for the centuriate and plebeian assemblies respectively.!26
Where these individual contrasts are, on occasion, employed outside
their original context, it is usually for a particular purpose. So the
assiduus—proletarius contrast, which was ultimately wealth-based, is intro-
duced into Twelve Tables 1.4,!27 either as a measure of relief to proletarii
or to protect the legal adversaries of assidui by ensuring that anyone who
intervened on their behalf (probably after judgement) was able to meet
the potential liabilities involved.!28 In either case the contrast has here

'2%6 Cf. Stuart Jones 1928{A128], 430-2. For a different view see p. 104.

127 ‘Foran assiduxs let an assiduus act as champion (vindex (p. 156)), for a proletarius let anyone who
wishes act as champion.” 1% Cf. ex col. Gen. Inliae (FIRA 1, n. 21) ¢. 61.

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 167

been employed for a highly specific purpose and hence does not appear
elsewhere in the preserved fragments of the Twelve Tables. In general
these antitheses seem to be confined to their original application and
their multiplicity and probable lack of correlation appear to imply the
absence of a formalized social hierarchy which acted as the determinant
of status throughout public and social life.

The partial exception is the patrician—plebeian contrast. Fundamen-
tally in the early Republic this was political in character, marking off the
patriciate as a hereditary privileged group which reputedly monopolized
office. So far, therefore, as the ‘plebs’ are simply the non-patricians, the
term does not necessarily denote any homogeneous body within Roman
society (p. 235). It is the patriciate which here forms a distinct and self-
contained group and their exclusiveness impinged on other spheres also,
notably control of public religion and the prohibition of patrician—
plebeian intermarriage.'!29 These, however, are themselves linked to their
political predominance (and efforts to preserve it) and although that in
turn implies (and, in the final analysis, rests on) the exercise of consider-
able social and economic leverage, there is no good evidence that the
patriciate itself represents the totality of a particular social or economic
class (however defined), that it was marked out by a peculiar source of
wealth (e.g. pasturage as opposed to agriculture or land as opposed to
‘commerce’) or that its roots lay in some other distinction (for example,
ethnic differences or priority of presence at the site of Rome). Nor are
there solid grounds for believing that the patriciate enjoyed a specifically
military origin, as the regal cavalry.15° Admittedly, while the military
tactics and functions of the cavalry in the era of ‘hoplite’ warfare are
highly controversial,!3! they do seem to have enjoyed a special prestige
and status, conceivably greater than their purely military role warranted
and perhaps indicative of their aristocratic character. They were, for
example, recruited and organized separately from the infantry, in divi-
sions which were apparently based on the pre-Servian tribes, and on the
nomination of a dictator they were assigned their own subordinate
commander, the ‘master of horse’ (magister equitum). Both horse and
fodder were, of course, provided at public expense but this in itself, if not
a later innovation,'32 may be as much a mark of honour as a form of
financial relief. Moreover, the right to a public horse was conferred by

129 The distinctive marriage form known as confarreatio, required for certain priests and their
parents, may have been reserved to patricians but this is not directly attested.

130 As Alféldi 1952[H1]; id. 1965[H2}, 21-34; 1967[H3], 13-47; 1968[H4], 444-60. For further
discussion see above, p. 102. 131 Cf. Stary 1981[G719}, 95-9, 124-5, 157-8, 165-8.

132 The system of using the contributions of widows and orphans to finance the equestrian
subventions can hardly precede the regular imposition of sributum: cf. Gabba 1977[G 587], 24-6
(citing Plut. Cam. 2.4; Pwb/. 12.4 against Cic. Rep. 11.36; Livy 1.43.9). Cf. also the changes in the
supply of horses for chariot-racing (Rawson 1981[G126}, ff, esp. 4f).

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168 4. ROMEIN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

the magistrate conducting the census who would presumably give
preference to those of his own class with the leisure to acquire and
practise the skills involved. The popularity of equestrian scenes in
archaic Etruscan art, the tendency to represent persons of rank in a
chariot or on horseback and the probable participation of aristocrats in
equestrian sports serve to confirm this elitist character, as does the fact
that at Rome the cavalry centuries originally voted first in the centuriate
assembly.!33 In both the military and political spheres, therefore, cavalry
service may well have provided a distinctive and prestigious role for the
aristocratic young, but this does not prove a formal identity between
cavalry and patriciate. The alleged coincidences of equestrian and patri-
cian dress and ornament have largely proved illusory'* and there is no
evidence that service in a corps which probably required particular
attributes of skill and physique (cf. Gell. NA vi.22.1) was formally
restricted to a specific social or political group.’

Of the lifestyle and values of this aristocracy little is known, although
the importance of revenge for injuries suffered, of personal honour and
of social obligation have already been noted. The hereditary character of
the patriciate will certainly have reinforced the emphasis on ancestry and
it is a reasonable assumption that the traditions of private generosity
were paralleled by an expectation of public liberality also. Aristocratic
display is obviously implied in the Twelve Tables’ restrictions on
funerary extravagance and other evidence also suggests a milieu similar
to the exuberant world of games, banquets, hunts and war so vividly
illustrated in archaic and sub-archaic Etruscan art (cf. also Fig. 38). The
elder Cato recalled the distant practice of celebrating heroic deeds at
aristocratic feasts (Cic. Brut. 75; Tuse. 1v.3) and such banquets formed an
integral part of some religious celebrations. The taste for the heroic may
explain the popularity of such figures as Hercules, and the old traditions
of aristocratic combat still survived, notably in the ‘spoils of honour’
(spolia opima) gained (according to the usual version) by a commander
who killed an enemy commander. Those traditions, reputedly exempli-
fied by A. Cornelius Cossus’ slaughter of a Veientan king in 437 B.c. ina
cavalry duel, conflicted sharply with the disciplines of ‘hoplite’ warfare,
as the legends narrating the executions of a Postumius (432 or 431 B.C.)
and a T. Manlius (347 8.c.) for defying orders may originally have
demonstrated. The adoption of ‘hoplite’ tactics will have reduced the

133, Livy 1.43.11, not necessarily contradicted by Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.18.3; Vit.$9.33 X-17-3-
For a different view cf. Momigliano 1966{H39], 21ff (=id. Quarto Contributo 387ff).

134 See Momigliano 1966{Hs9], 16-24 (= id. Quarto Contribute 377-94); 1969[H62], 385-8 (= id.
Qninto Contributo 63 5-9).

135 That assumption would be justified if the century or centuries termed ‘procum patricium’
were exclusively patrician and identical with the six earliest equestrian centuries (so, for the early
Republic, Thomsen 1980[F62], 193~8) but neither contention is more than conjecture.

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 169

Fig. 38a. Terracotta frieze plaque depicting chariot race (late sixth century?). Reconstructed
from fragments found on the Palatine and corresponding examples from Velletri. From
Gjerstad 1953-74 [A356], tv.480 fig. 145.

Fig. 38b. Terracotta frieze plaque depicting banqueting scene (late sixth century?).
Reconstructed from one fragment found at Rome and corresponding examples from Velletri.
From Gijerstad 1953-73 [A56], tv.481 fig. 146.

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I7o 4. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY I

MN)
(~

Fig. 39. Incised discus from warrior tomb at Lanuvium (second quarter of the fifth century?).
From Colonna 1977 [(B312], 156f fig. 1o/A and B.

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SOCIAL STRUCTURES 17!

scope for this form of aristocratic prowess but will not have undermined
the values which it represented,! and the rewards of military valour
were probably specifically exempted from the Decemviral restrictions on
grave goods. So also were the victory wreaths won by the aristocrat,
suggesting that he might himself participate in equestrian or other
contests on the Greek model!37. The tomb of a warrior at Lanuvium,}38
buried with discus (Fig. 39), strigils and containers for sand, oil and
perfumes, still more obviously reflects the influence of Greek athletic
traditions, although in this case not necessarily in a competitive context.

The emergence of the patriciate, its establishment of its political pre-
eminence and attempts to reinforce its dominance by (ster alia) social
exclusivity epitomize the potential tensions inherent in the social and
political organization of the Roman city-state. On the one hand substan-
tial material inequalities had helped to foster the emergence of an elite
which was able to capitalize on its position of privilege to reduce
numbers of fellow citizens to a position of dependence, whether in the
form of debt-bondage or clientship. At the same time, the progressive
transformation of this elite (or a part of it) into a closed hereditary caste
created an artificial distinction which was almost inevitably open to
challenge, since its position increasingly failed to reflect the realities of
social and economic status; it enjoyed, it seems, a monopoly neither of
wealth nor, increasingly, of that military prestige which was a major
determinant of reputation and status. Moreover, the pre-eminence of the
patriciate stood in potential conflict with the needs and aspirations of the
citizen community as a whole. If the vertical bonds of patron and client
encouraged (to an extent that is unknown) the fragmentation of the
ordinary populace, the established patterns of mutual co-operation,
common membership of the citizen body and, above all, the regular
participation of a large proportion of the community in its major military
force necessarily fostered a sense of common commitments and therefore
of common rights; and it was to be the translation of this awareness onto
the political level which was to provoke the major internal confronta-
tions of the fifth century B.c.

'% For its later survival and function cf. Oakley 1985{G686], 392ff.
'37 Rawson 1981(G126], 1ff. 138 Galieti 1938{B3 32], 282-9; Colonna 1977(B312], 150-5.

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CHAPTER 5

ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II:
THE CITIZEN COMMUNITY

A. DRUMMOND

I. POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS
(a) The ancient account

The literary sources present a broadly uniform picture of the constitu-
tional developments of the early Republic.! In ¢. 509 B.c. the forcible
seduction of Lucretia (wife of L. Tarquinius Collatinus) by Tarquinius
Superbus’ son Sextus and her subsequent suicide prompted a revolution,
led by L. Iunius Brutus. Superbus was driven from Rome and an already
well-established hereditary aristocracy, the patriciate, assumed control
of the state, monopolizing political office. From the first the secular
powers of the kings were vested in two magistrates, later known as
consuls but at first as praetors, who were elected by the people and held
office for one year. They did not, however, inherit the king’s sacral
powers, although they had the right and duty on prescribed occasions to
ascertain the will of the gods by ‘taking the auspices’. Some of the king’s
sacrificial duties were committed to a newly established rex sacrorum, a
priest holding office for life, but control of religious practices is, later at
least, found in the hands of the pontifex maximus.

The consuls commanded Rome’s armies and exercised civil (and
potentially at least criminal) jurisdiction. They also presided over the
senate and assemblies and in general acted as the chief executives of the
state. Originally they took the census but this function was transferred in
443 B.C. to two censors elected at intervals, who also at some stage
acquired from the consuls the duty of compiling the list of senators. If
both consuls were absent from Rome they would appoint a prefect of the
city to see to its protection and any necessary domestic administration.
They were also assisted by two junior magistrates called quaestors (raised
to four in 421 B.c.) who were charged chiefly with financial duties.

Romans saw the establishment of the consulship as the beginning of

' The principal accounts are those of Livy (Books 11~-v), Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Ant. Rom.
Books v—xi1 (only fragments after 443 B.c.)), Cicero (Rep. 11.5 3-63), Plutarch (Pxblicola, Coriolanus
and Camillus) and Dio-Zonaras (Dio Books m—v1 (vol. 1, pp. 35-77 Boiss.); Zonar. vit.12-22).

172

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 173

freedom, but acknowledged an early predominance of the aristocracy
and unhindered exercise of power by the consuls who, it was supposed,
jointly possessed the plenitude of regal authority. However, it was also
believed that the collegiate character of the office itself acted as a
limitation; each consul had equal power and could thus take action to
nullify abuses by his colleague. Moreover, the consuls normally sought
and complied with the advice of the senate on any issue of substance; for
the annalists the senate is already the central instrument of government.

In emergencies, often because their powers were insufficient to deal
effectively with plebeian recalcitrance, one of the consuls, in conformity
with a decree of the senate, would nominate a single man as dictator;
assisted by a ‘master of horse’ (wagister equitum) of his own choice, he was
exempt from the limitations gradually imposed on the power of the
consuls but he was expected to resign his office not later than six months
after nomination. In 451/450 B.c. the consulship was replaced by the
Decemvirates (p. 114) and was also in abeyance in most years between
444 and 366 when consular power was vested in three, four or six military
tribunes.

Some at least believed that this ‘consular tribunate’ was open to
plebeians from the start, although none were in fact elected until goo, and
that plebeians were granted access to the quaestorship in 421. With these
exceptions, however, both magistracies and priesthoods were a patrician
preserve. Only when the consulship was reinstituted in 366 was it madea
rule that one consul should be plebeian. The admission of plebeians to
other political offices followed fairly rapidly but entry to the two most
politically important priesthoods, the pontificate and augurate, came
only in 300 B.C.

Much of this account has been challenged by modern scholars. For
instance, it has often been held that the kings were not immediately
replaced by a dual magistracy; some think that the fall of the monarchy
must be placed much later than was believed in antiquity, others that the
patriciate itself or its monopoly of office was only gradually established.
Crucial to any consideration of these theories is the reliability of the
consular list, which purports to record the names of the chief magistrates
of the Roman state from the last decade of the sixth century and provides
the basis for key elements of the traditional narrative. Hence a consider-
ation of the accuracy of the fasti must precede a more detailed discussion
of early republican constitutional history.

(b) The consular fasti and the date of the Republic

The consular lists current in the late Republic betray a number of
possible spurious additions. The register for the first year of the Republic

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174 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

suffered progressive interpolation.? P. Valerius Poplicola’s subsequent
series of consulships, two with a Lucretius (in 508 and 504) and one (in
507) with Horatius3 (suspiciously parallel to the famous Valerio-Hora-
tian consulship of 449), is also disturbing, even if perhaps reflecting an
initial political dominance of a peculiarly powerful figure. Later in the
fifth century Diodorus has (or had) two or three additional years whose
authenticity is dubious‘ and the Second Decemvirate, if not the First, is
open to suspicion (p. 114). In the era of the consular tribunate (444-367)
the evidence of the Linen Books may reveal one or two added names (p.
18), two apparently plebeian names (in 444 and 422 respectively) are
highly dubious (p. 193), and there are some puzzling irregularities in the
lists for 389, 387, 380 and 379.5 At the end of this period the ‘five year
period without magistrates’ or ‘anarchy’ (375-371 B.C.) is historically
implausible (cf. p. 348) and was probably intended to correlate the (pre-
Varronian) Roman date for the Gallic Sack with an independent syn-
chronism of that event in Greek sources (perhaps originally Philistus or
Timaeus): the surviving consular list(s) had preserved five years too few
to meet that Greek date (ol. 98.2 (387/6 B.c.)) and the anarchy made up
the deficit. Finally, four ‘dictator years’ (333, 324, 309 and 301), in which
dictators with their magistri equitum supposedly held office alone, were
added to the fasti in a few sources, probably in the first century B.c. (ib.).

Alongside these interpolations we must also reckon with the possi-
bility of omissions in the surviving lists. Indeed, given the hazards of
transmission, loss of names or colleges may be as significant a factor as
interpolation. If, for example, the Greek synchronism for the Gallic Sack
is accurate, it seems to imply the loss of entire colleges from the fourth-
century list? and the same would presumably then also be true of the fifth-
century fasti,8 although not necessarily on a large scale.

2 Cf. Ogilvie 1965(B129], 232; Richard 1978[H76], 474ff.

3 ‘Lucretius’ in Livy 11.15.1.

4 Between 458 and 457; 457 and 456; 428 and 427. Cf. Drummond 1980[Do9], 69-71.

5 Below, p. 193 n. 58. The uneven occurrence and variations in size of the early colleges of.
consular tribunes also present an intractable problem (p. 195) but allegations of widespread
interpolation in Livy and the Capitoline Fasti cannot be substantiated on the basis of Diodorus’
abbreviated lists (cf. Drummond loc.cit.).

6 In Diod. xv.75.1 this has been reduced to one year, perhaps through negligence (Perl
1957[Dz5], 113). In compensation for this and for his omission of the college of 367 B.c. Diodorus
repeats the colleges of 394-390 B.c.

7 There seems to have been no fixed date for the start of the consular year in the early Republic and
if both consuls left office early or the appointment of successors was delayed, the new consuls
probably counted their year of office from their own entry date. This alone, however, cannot explain
the apparent defects in the fourth-century list.

8 A possible instance may lie behind the variants under 444 B.c., where according to Licinius
Macer the Linen Books gave a consulship of L. Papirius Mugillanus and L. Sempronius Atratinus,
also allegedly recorded in a treaty with Ardea (presumably in an accompanying protocol): Livy

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 17$

None of these defects, however, casts serious doubt on the core of the
preserved list; they may merely represent the inevitable corruption that
results from repeated transmission over the centuries or (in some cases)
deliberate manipulation for specific and limited purposes. More signifi-
cant reservations concern a number of early fifth-century consuls. Their
family names are known later only as plebeian but they hold office in a
period in which, according to the literary sources, the patriciate monopo-
lized the chief magistracy. The following list of such consuls? is typical:

L. Iunius Brutus (509)

Sp. Cassius Vicellinus (502; 493; 486)

Post. Cominius Auruncus (501; 493)

M’. Tullius Longus (500)

M. Minucius Augurinus (497; 491)

P. Minucius Augurinus (492)

T. Sicinius (or Siccius) Sabinus (487)

C. Aquillius Tuscus (487)

T. Numicius Priscus (469)

P. Volumnius Amintinus Gallus (461)

L. Minucius Esquilinus Augurinus (458)

Q. Minucius Esquilinus (457)

Sp. Tarpeius Montanus Capitolinus (454)

A. Aternius Varus Fontinalis (454)

T. Genucius (cos. des. 451; Decemvir 451)

M. Genucius Augurinus (445)
These names are sometimes accepted as both authentic and plebeian
with, in consequence, no patrician monopoly of office in this period.!°
Alternatively, that monopoly is accepted and these consuls repudiated as
fiction.!! Both solutions, however, assume that these names are not
patrician. Yet two of these families (the Tarpeii and Aternii) are never
reliably recorded as plebeian and six of the remaining ten (the Aquillii,
Cassii, Cominii, Numicii, Tullii and Volumnii) show a considerable
interval between their last appearance in an ostensibly ‘patrician’ office
and their first in a clearly plebeian post. There may, therefore, be no
direct descent involved, particularly since the Italic practice of using
patronymics as family names (p. 98) readily leads to the adoption of the
same name by unrelated individuals and clans. Even where consular
names were held also by plebeians in the early Republic (as, allegedly,

Iv.7.10~12; cf. Cic. Fame. 1x.21.2; Dion. Hal. Anat. Rom. x1.62.3f. The accuracy of this account is
contentious (despite Livy the evidence of the Linen Books and the Ardeate treaty need not be
mutually independent and therefore confirmatory) but if it is reliable, this cannot be a college of
suffect consuls, replacing the consular tribunes of the year as Livy and Dionysius pretend
(Mommsen 1859{D2z2], 93f); it would be an additional consular year already lost in the early annalists
(Livy tv.7.10). 9 Based on Beloch 1926[A1z], 9-22.

10 So first Schaefer 1876[H84], 569ff. 1! Beloch loc. cit.

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176 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

with the Iunii, Siccii/Sicinii, Genucii and Minucii), the plebeian status of
these consuls would remain unproven, for the co-existence of patrician
and plebeian homonyms is familiar from the late Republic, above all
among the Claudii, Servilii and Veturii.

Moreover, the criteria of plebeian status applied to these gentes (that
they hold no clearly patrician post after 367 but have homonyms in
plebeian offices in the republican period) imply that other early consular
families are also plebeian: the Menenii, Curiatii, Sestii/Sextii, Aebutii,
Curtii, Lucretii and perhaps Verginii and Sempronii. Since these clans
appear in office until the early fourth century, their acceptance as
plebeian entails either that there has been large-scale interpolation
throughout the fifth century fas¢i or that there was no period at which the
patriciate alone held office.!2 Such radical conclusions are difficult to
accept. It is easier to believe that, as with the Papirii in the late Republic,
these are all patrician houses which progressively died out or at least
declined into obscurity, especially as the sharp decrease in the number of
posts available to, or reserved to, patricians after 367 meant reduced
opportunities for the lesser families to hold offices that would reveal
their patrician status.

There are, therefore, no solid grounds for disputing the general
credibility of the core of the preserved consular list,!3 and certain of its
features taken together indicate that it is substantially reliable even for
the fifth century. A notable number of rare or obsolete family names
appear. The forenames (praenomina) employed by the consuls are pro-
gressively restricted to the later canonical range. The most overtly
Etruscan names also gradually disappear and no room seems to have
been found initially for such famous legendary figures as Coriolanus and
Cincinnatus. Moreover, the list presents a coherent picture of changing
fortunes within the aristocracy itself and of the decline of individual
families at least from the mid-fifth century.'* It also tacitly implies
important and plausible principles governing the aristocratic sharing of
office (p. 206). Whilst, therefore, the list may suffer both from omissions
and from some later interpolations, its evidence for the early chief
magistrates is probably broadly accurate.

The general reliability of the fasti implies acceptance also of the
traditional chronology of the Republic which is based on them.
Although strictly consuls were recorded as the eponymous officials of
the year rather than as the chief magistrates of the Roman state, their use
for this purpose is prima facie evidence that they were already the

12 So Palmer 1970[A102]; cf. Comell 1983[H18], roiff.

‘3 For reservations based on doubts about the initial form of the chief magistracy cf. p. 186f.
4 Beloch 1926[A12], 22-6; cf. also Tables 3 and 4 (p. 207-8).

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 177

principal magistrates and the ancient assumption that the inception of the
consular list implies the overthrow of the monarchy seems
unexceptionable.'5 Hence, if the surviving /asti are substantially reliable,
the Republic was instituted in or by the late sixth century and modern
attempts to redate it to ¢. 475 or 450 B.c.!6 must fail, especially since the
further arguments adduced to support such a redating are inadequate.!”
Moreover, the ancient chronology for the establishment of the Republic
provides the most satisfactory context for the political developments of
the early fifth century, above all the emergence of the plebeian movement
which sought to assert and defend the rights of some or all non-
patricians. That chronology may also be supported by archaeological
evidence from the ‘king’s house’ (Regia), which appears only at the end
of the sixth century to have assumed the form which became invariable
thereafter;!8 a link with the creation of the priest-king (rex sacrorum) at the
establishment of the Republic is plausible, though not provable.
Other data which are sometimes cited in support of the traditional
chronology are less certain. Thus Dionysius dates to 505/4 the Latins’
appeal to Aristodemus of Cumae for aid against Porsenna soon after the
Romans’ expulsion of their last king (Ant. Rom. v1.5.1) and it is possible
that he derived this date from the independent Greek source on which he
evidently drew for his account of Aristodemus (p. 1f). We cannot be
sure, however, that this is the case or that his Greek source was not itself
available to the earliest Roman historians and used by them to date the
Porsenna episode. Similar uncertainty surrounds Cn. Flavius’ alleged
dating of the dedication of the Capitoline temple to 507 B.c. (p. 627 n. 13).
It is again possible that this date was established independently of the
consular fasti and on that basis might confirm the date of the first year of
the Republic in which (according to later tradition) the temple was
dedicated. However, both hypotheses are fragile: we do not know how
Flavius calculated his date, and the date of the dedication of the
Capitoline temple is a notorious crux. There is no reason to doubt a sixth-
century date for the temple as such,!? but unless this was a reconsecration
occasioned by the expulsion of an earlier dedicator (i.e. Tarquinius
Superbus), the traditional location of the dedication in the first year of

'S: The inference would be reinforced if (i) the Capitoline temple was dedicated by a consul (M.
Horatius) in the late sixth century and (ii) the rule that the ‘greatest praetor’ should insert a nail in the
temple wall each year (p. 187) was established at the time of the dedication. Neither, however, is
certain: Horatius’ dedication may be an inference (below) and analogous later documents suggest
that temple regulations in this period would not be explicitly dated.

te Hanell 1946{G611]; Gjerstad 1962[A57]; id. 1953-73[A56]; Bloch 1959{Fo], 118; Werner
1963[A134}.

17 See e.g. Momigliano 1963[A83], 101-6 (=id. Terzo Contribute 538-67); Ogilvie 1964[A95],
85-7. 18 Brown 1974-5[E79], 15ff; cf. above, Fig. 13a-d (p. 46-7).

19 See Drerup 1974{G394], 1-12.

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178 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

the Republic is too obviously symbolic to be accepted.2° All this,
however, is of secondary significance. The essential fact is that the
Republic was established in or very close to the last decade of the sixth
century, a date which rests ultimately on the consular list.

In explaining the origins of the Republic the Roman tradition concen-
trated on proximate causes linked to their depiction of the last king in
terms of the stereotyped features of Greek tyrants, where the sexual
abuse of subjects is a recurrent theme. Even so, the surviving narratives
are unsatisfactory, for they seem to reflect a combination of two distinct
motifs. Lucretia and Brutus have no integral connexion and presumably
represent independent narratives subsequently combined or the interpo-
lation of Brutus into a pre-existing legend. Both motifs betray a charac-
teristic aristocratic tendency to assign an individualist explanation to
political change but whether either has any basis in fact we do not know.
The narrative itself is generally reminiscent of the overthrow of several
Greek tyrannies essentially for reasons of individual vengeance (cf. Arist.
Pol. v.13 1143 2ff) but has no exact Greek parallel and neither the patrician
Lucretii (who disappear after 381 B.c.) nor their plebeian namesakes were
of sufficient prominence to be able to impose the legend of Lucretia on
Roman tradition themselves. Brutus’ role was no less widely accepted
and his statue allegedly appeared alongside those of the kings on the
Capitol, but his involvement may reflect merely the spurious claims of
the later (plebeian) Iunii Bruti or a deduction from his appearance at the
head of the consular list.

However, even if it were authentic, in part or in whole, the revolution
narrative would identify only the immediate background to the expul-
sion of an individual king, ascribing it to motives of personal honour and
revenge among his own circle. It does not illuminate the more funda-
mental factors which determined the transition from monarchy to aris-
tocracy. Nor does the attractive modern conjecture that it was in fact
Porsenna’s seizure and subsequent abandonment of Rome which opened
the way to aristocratic government (cf. p. 258f). Nonetheless, it does
appear that, in one way or another, the monarchy was ended by force.
That some of the king’s religious functions passed to a rex sacrorum is no
evidence that the transition to the Republic was achieved only by a
gradual reduction in the king’s powers.?! The rex sacrorum was almost

2 The name of thealleged dedicator Horatius may not have been recorded epigraphically (p. 21 n.
40) and may simply be derived from the consular fasti for the first year of the Republic. The
dedication is dated to Horatius’ second consulship by Dion. Hal. Aart. Rom. v.35.3; Tac. Hist. 111.72.

21 De Sanctis 1907-64[A37], 1-401; cf. Guarino 1948[F31], 95; 1963[F32], 346f; 1971[G533],
312A; 1975[H4o], 135ff; 305 ff.

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 179

certainly not an independent Roman creation but derived directly or
indirectly from Greek models.22 Since in historical times he was selected
by the pontifex maximus in the manner of other major priests and was
barred from political office, there is no reason to doubt that his institu-
tion was a deliberate act after the last king was expelled. That seems to be
indicated by subsequent Roman hostility to monarchy, which is evident
both in individual legends detailing the fate of those accused of aiming at
autocratic power in the early Republic (p. 183) and in the whole structure
of republican government (cf. esp. p. 205f). The (re)construction of the
Regia in the late sixth century may also offer further confirmation.

For Roman sources the revolution represented a seizure of power by a
clearly defined patriciate, which already in the regal period had monopo-
lized the priesthoods, the senate and the interregnum procedure (p. 184) by
which a new king was appointed.23 Much of this account cannot be
controlled, but if the sixteen earliest rural tribes were instituted under the
later monarchy,” they indicate already a powerful presence of families
included in the historical patriciate since ten are named after known
patrician gentes (the remaining six names are similarly formed and may
derive from clans which subsequently disappeared). Still more, the later
patrician monopoly of positions (such as that of the chief curio (curio
maximus)) which were of increasingly little significance under the
Republic and of other archaic priesthoods like the Salii can be plausibly
attributed to the regal period. Such religious prerogatives in turn may
imply a major role in the formulation and preservation of the law, which
rested with the pontifices as far back as we can trace. Indeed, the
aristocracy’s position may owe much to the development of religious and
legal traditions not publicly accessible and demanding both expertise and
the leisure and opportunity to acquire it. Though the king himself had
significant ritual functions and may have assumed overall charge of
religious matters, by the end of the monarchy there was a wide variety of
specialized priesthoods immediately responsible for most public religious
ordinances and observances (pp. 5 82ff) and patricians may already have
monopolized most of these. In addition, the patriciate may have acquired
political prerogatives under the kings, notably the right to a predomi-
nant or even exclusive position in the senate (and thereby perhaps
control of the interregnum procedure). The term patricius itself clearly
derives from the appellation patres, whose later use both for the patrician

2 E.g. Momigliano 1971{F50], 357-64 (= id. Quarto Contribute 393-402).

23 On the patriciate in the regal period and the interregnum procedure see also above, p. i01f.

% Taylor 1960[(G73 3], 3-7; cf. Sherwin-White 1973{A123], 195-7; below, p. 245f. For other
views cf. Humbert 1978[J 184], 49-84; Thomsen 1980[F62], 115-43 (both dating the establishment
of many or all of the early rural tribes to ¢. 495 B.c. on the basis of Livy 1.21.7).

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180 §- ROMEIN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

senators and for the senate as a whole?5 may indicate that the patriciate
had once monopolized that body, presumably again at an early date. A
nascent patriciate may, therefore, have acquired an identity, status and
privileges under the later monarchy, which, reinforced by its wealth and
nexus of social ties and dependants, would have enabled it to seize and
monopolize power after the expulsion of the kings.

This belief is, however, frequently challenged, principally on the basis
that the consular list shows plebeians in office as late as 445 B.c. and thus
demonstrates that the patriciate was established only at that date or, at the
least, that it was only then that its composition and prerogatives received
final and formal definition.” There is, of course, no intrinsic difficulty in
believing that whilst a privileged hereditary elite developed in the later
regal period, its composition was only finally determined in the early
Republic, when it became crucial to control the right both to hold office
in the new Republic and to sit in its chief decision-making body, the
senate. Indeed, if the legend of Att(i)us Clausus’ emigration to Rome and
admission to the patriciate c. 504 B.C. is to be believed, it offers a concrete
instance of an initial continuing readiness to admit new blood and there
may have been a corresponding fluctuation in the status of some mar-
ginal gentes. Whether, however, the early fifth-century ‘plebeian’ consuls
in fact represent families subsequently excluded from an emerging
patriciate or non-patricians admitted to office in the early Republic as a
means of securing support for the new political regime must be much
more dubious, since the alleged ‘plebeian’ names in the early fasti may as
easily be patrician (p. 175f) and the principal supporting arguments
adduced to prove a republican origin for the patriciate are inadequate.

Thus, it is argued that some of the kings (Numa Pompilius, Ancus
Marcius, Tullus Hostilius and Servius Tullius), curiae and hills of the
Septimontium bear family names held later only by plebeians. This,
however, demonstrates nothing for the emergence of the historical
patriciate in the early Republic rather than the later monarchy, particu-
larly since in every case the link between the early clans concerned and
their much later plebeian namesakes is highly speculative (most obvi-
ously in the case of Servius Tullius). Similarly, the ban on full marriage
between patricians and plebeians in the Twelve Tables (Table x1.1) does
not prove a development of patrician exclusivity in the mid-fifth century;
even if the prohibition was here expressly formulated for the first time,
that is as likely to indicate that an ailing or threatened custom now needed
legal expression.2” No less inconclusive are the traditions of senatorial

25 Stuart Jones 1928[A1z7], 413f.

26 See,e.g., Bernardi 1945—6[H9], 3-14; cf. Momigliano 1969[A87}, 1-34 (= id. Quinto Contributo
293-332); Richard 1978[H76], esp. s19ff.

77 According to legend as late as 295 B.C. patrician marital exclusivity was enshrined in the

exclusion from the (supposed) sanctuary of Pudicitia Patricia in the Forum Boarium of patrician
women who married plebeian husbands (Livy x.23.4ff).

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 181

address, also invoked in this context.28 Livy (1.1.11) and Festus (304 L)
quote the phrase ‘those who are fathers (patres) (and) those who are
enrolled (conscripti)’ as the formula for summoning the senate, and
interpret both this and the formal mode of address to the senate, patres
conscripti (literally ‘fathers enrolled’), as originally referring to two
distinct groups: the patrician senators and those non-patricians admitted
at the start of the Republic. This, it is argued, reveals the participation of
non-patricians in government in the early fifth century, an inheritance
from a position of influence already attained in the regal period. Again
the deduction is insecure: the summons formula may be a mere pleonasm
and other sources”? regard patres conscripti as a unit (‘enrolled fathers’)
with the participle ‘conscripti’ dependent on ‘patres’. Even if conscripti
does refer to non-patricians as a separate group, the formula does not
indicate when they were first admitted: indeed, it may imply that they
were a subsequent addition to a senate monopolized by pares, but in that
case the diversity of ancient accounts of the date and identity of the
conscripti suggests that there was no firm tradition on either topic; and
that the pafres in historical times monopolized the interregnum procedure,
for example, does not imply the existence also of conscripti in the regal
senate.

If these arguments to prove a republican origin for the patriciate are
indecisive, there is still less reason to suppose that patrician status itself
was based, in whole or in part, ona family’s tenure of the chief republican
offices.» It is an unwarranted assumption that in describing the pro-
cedure at the interregnum as ‘the reversion (redire) of (the) auspices to the
patres Cicero (ad Brut. 1.5.4) reflects a deep-seated tradition that the patres
were here ex-magistrates reviving the auspices they had previously
held while in office. It may rather, for example, express the fact that
interregna were a recurrent, if irregular, feature of political experience and
that, just as the commonwealth itself may be said to revert to an
interregnum (Livy 1v.43.7), SO also at such an interregnum the auspices may
be conceived as reverting from the regular magistrates to the patrician
senators. It is equally arbitrary to suppose that when Livy 1.8.7 attributes
the appellation pafres to the respect (honos) enjoyed by the patrician
senators, he in fact misrepresents a source which intended the term
‘honos’ in its concrete sense of political office; and when he and other
sources refer to the first of a clan to hold the chief magistracy as ‘the
originator of his clan’ (princeps gentis) or ‘the originator of (its) nobility’
(princeps nobilitatis) they do not thereby necessarily indicate the basis of
its patrician status.

There is, therefore, no compelling reason to discount an origin of the

2 Momigliano 1969[A87], 23-4 (= id. Quinto Contributo 319-20).

29 Notably Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.12.3; Sebol. Dan, Aen. 1.426; cf. Cic. Pbil. x11.28.
3% Magdelain 1964[Hs0], 427-73. Cf. also Palmer 1970[A102]; Ranouil 1975[H74}.

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182 5- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

patriciate in the pre-republican period or a patrician monopoly of the
consulship in the fifth century. Indeed, the alternative view fails to
explain satisfactorily why and how the patriciate excluded certain fam-
ilies which on this hypothesis had already held office. There is also little
evidence that those non-patricians allegedly excluded from office after
the early fifth century subsequently went to form the core of the plebeian
leadership in their struggle to check and modify the patrician hegemony,
as might be expected; only the Genucii are self-evidently prominent
among the plebeians seeking office in the early and mid-fourth century.*!
Yet the plebeian movement, which was already electing its own officers
(the plebeian tribunes and aediles) in the early fifth century, must have
enjoyed vigorous leadership by men of some standing from the outset.
That too is more easily explained if the consulship was already a patrician
preserve. Moreover, if the ancient account is in error on so central an
issue as the right to hold office, little else in it would have any claim to
credence: so fundamental a misconception would leave us with little
grounds for faith in the rest of its narrative. In itself, of course, that is
hardly a solid counter-argument, but fortunately scepticism of this
magnitude is not necessary. What the ‘plebeian’ names in the fas#i reflect
is the abiding process of change within the aristocracy,>? but the founda-
tions of that aristocracy’s power were already becoming established
under the later monarchy and it is their growing self-assertion and
distaste for regal rule which must ultimately lie behind the establishment
of the republican system.

Although the patriciate was by definition a political entity, its power
clearly rested on an interconnecting complex of factors: wealth, a strong
kin-group structure, the nexus of associations within its own ranks, the
patronage of dependants perhaps of varying social and economic status,
ties of guest-friendship and probably marriage with aristocrats in other
neighbouring communities, Etruscan and Latin. Patrician families prob-
ably had strong traditions of military prowess and it can be assumed that
the later kings drew their subordinate commanders from aristocratic
partisans, who thus acquired experience of military leadership. Finally, it
has been seen that patricians were probably already the repositories of
legal and religious expertise. It was in fact a particular feature of the
Roman state that it had no separate priestly caste. The tenure of certain
priesthoods precluded political activity but even these were reserved to
the patriciate and later at least those which passed judgement on major

31 In the present writer’s view the fifth-century tribunates of the Iunii, Minucii and Siccii are
almost certainly fictitious.

32 The increasingly dominant position of a few patrician clans from the mid-fifth century on
(p. 207) is especially relevant here.

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 183

religious issues, in particular the pontificate and augurate, were normally
held by active politicians (p. 588). Moreover, the principal priestly
colleges were kept clearly distinct in their spheres of competence, the
initiative in taking cognisance of, and the final decision on, the most
important religious issues rested with the senate, and many of the most
important religious acts were performed by the magistrates (p. 589).
There could, therefore, be no permanent separate religious focus of
power and interests and the patriciate was probably able to use its
religious predominance not merely to enhance its standing but to rein-
force its hold on political power.

The patriciate may well, however, have experienced difficulty in
maintaining its own internal cohesion, particularly if it included some
individuals who were able on occasion to assemble sufficiently powerful
followings to act as quasi-autonomous agents (pp. 96ff). If the narra-
tives of Att(i)us Clausus’ defection from the Sabines, Coriolanus’ alleged
desertion of Rome for the Volsci, or the campaign of the Fabii against
Veii contain even a kernel of truth, they would be relevant here. So very
probably would be the narratives of early republican figures who sought
monarchic power.33 One such account speaks of a Sp. Maelius who
courted popular support by organizing relief in a corn shortage and was
assassinated by C. Servilius Ahala in 439 B.c. This, however, may be
fiction, based on an aetiological explanation of a site in Rome known as
the Aequimaelium, which was interpreted as the ‘level of Maelius’. Here,
it was supposed, a Maelius’ house had been destroyed, reputedly a
normal procedure after the execution of traitors in the early Republic.
This core was then expanded, probably as early as Cincius Alimentus or
even Ennius,* by a similar attempt to explain the Servilian cognomen
Ahala as the ‘armpit’ (a/a) where Servilius hid his sword or lopped off
Maelius’ arm, and by the incorporation of an independent family legend
(cf. Fig. 36: p. 133) ofan early Minucius who had relieved a corn shortage
and who was later paraded by the historians as an anachronistic ‘prefect
of the corn supply’ and/or supernumerary plebeian tribune; in the early
historians the whole narrative may have served as an illustration of the
obligation on any citizen to remove a potential tyrant, itself indicative of
the continuing danger of individual ambition.35 Whilst, however, the
legend of Sp. Maelius may illuminate later aristocratic concerns rather
than historical reality, those of Sp. Cassius, executed in 485, and of M.

33 For these narratives see Lintott 1970[F39], 12-29 (defending the historicity of Maelius’
execution).

* Cf. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. xu1.4.2 (Cincius Alimentus); Skutsch 1971(B166), 26ff; 1985[B169),
306f(Ennius).

35 Ata later stage the story was ‘normalized’ for political purposes by transforming Ahala into the
magister equitum of a dictator (L. Quinctius Cincinnatus): Lintott 1970[F 39], 16-17.

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184 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

Manlius Capitolinus, executed in 385 or 384, are less obviously invented.
In their developed form both men are presented as demagogic agitators
but this reflects subsequent elaboration under the influence of Greek
theories of tyranny and late republican political propaganda; the agita-
tion of Cassius in particular is largely modelled on events of the Gracchan
period.36 The most that can have been recalled or recorded of either man
was the execution for seeking autocratic power. That is not implausible
in the context of sub-archaic society but though popular support might
well be sought for such an enterprise, the proper context for such
ambitions is the individual power which could be exercised in that
period. To judge by his three consulships (502; 493; 486 B.c.) Sp. Cassius
was amongst the most prominent political figures of his day and his fall
coincides with the onset of an unparalleled series of seven Fabian
consulships (485-479 B.c.), suggesting rivalry within the aristocracy
itself as a pre-eminent factor in his demise. It is notable that, as Table 3
(p. 207) shows, some of the most politically successful patrician families
enter office for the first time in these years (the Cornelii, Aemilii and
Manlii as well as the Fabii themselves).

It is readily intelligible, therefore, that at the outset the major preoccu-
pations of the patriciate were the maintenance and stability of the new
political regime against the threat of a reversion to monarchy and that to
this end the patriciate made strenuous efforts to reinforce its own internal
cohesion both politically and socially. The ban on marriage with plebe-
ians, probably already customary before its inclusion in the Twelve
Tables, was obviously intended to prevent the dilution of its traditions of
exclusivity, whilst the forms in which patrician political power was
institutionalized from the start of the Republic sought both to forestall
abuse and usurpation by individual magistrates and to ensure a major
role for the collective voice of the patriciate as a whole.

The principle of collective aristocratic responsibility is, indeed, al-
ready implicit in the snterregnum procedure. Under this, individual patri-
cian senators were successively nominated to hold elections if the chief
magistrates died or left office without electing successors; indeed, the
first such snterrex was appointed by the patrician senators as a whole after
the necessary auspicial observances (Livy v1.41.6; cf. Cic. ad Brut. 1.5.4; p.
181). Furthermore, the patrician senators are here entitled to take the
auspices for a public act and perform that act without authorization by
any other organ of state. This suggests that the patrician monopoly of
political office was reinforced by claims to special competence in the
religious acts necessary to such office.3? Even if we do not trust Livy’s

% Gabba 1964[B62], 29-41.

3” Even if in origin the right to take public auspices depended on public position rather than
individual ‘charisma’ (Heuss 1982[G618], 391), that does not exclude the subsequent development
of claims to a peculiar patrician competence, especially in the face of plebeian demands.

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 185

rhetoric on the subject (v1.41.5ff), it may be significant that plebeians
secured access to the pontificate and augurate some time after their
admission to secular office (p. 343), and it is presumably similar consider-
ations which explain why a plebeian censor first performed the closing
purification ceremony of the census (the /ustrum) only in 279 B.C., sixty
years after plebeians entered the office (Livy, Per. XIII).

The interregnum procedure also helps to bring into focus the character
of the patrician senate, for in the last resort the patrician senators
themselves are responsible for the continuity of government. Thus the
senate is not restricted to a purely advisory function; in extremis it can and
does take action on its own initiative. This collective sense of patrician
responsibility is further illustrated by the institution of the patrum
auctoritas (p. 343). The sources regard this as a formal sanction given by
the patrician senators to legislative and electoral acts of the curiate and
centuriate assemblies but its precise function is obscure; it may have been
a declaration that the formalities of the legislative procedures (particu-
larly in their religious aspect) had been correctly observed or a more
general act of approval, but there are difficulties in either view. Livy
believed that the patrum auctoritas had originated in the regal period for
the confirmation of the election of the early kings*8 but whether that has
any basis it is again impossible to determine. What is known is that the
procedure was modified in the late fourth century or early third. Origin-
ally the patrum auctoritas had been given after the election or comitial
approval of legislation,» but by an alleged Publilian law of 339 it had to
be given in advance for centuriate legislation and by a Maenian law
(Pearly third century) in advance also for elections. That does not
necessarily imply, however, an early origin for the prerogative itself: it
could still, for example, be a safeguard introduced after the admission of
plebeians to the consulship in 366 B.c. However, whilst it was required
for acts of the curiate as well as the centuriate assembly, it was not
perhaps required for the decisions of the tribal assembly meeting under
the presidency of a state magistrate“ and this may indicate an origin
earlier than the development of such tribal assemblies (perhaps in the
mid-fourth century). In that case it should probably be seen as a general
check on the magistrates instituted or inherited in the early fifth century.

Whatever its date and exact purpose, however, the patrum auctoritas,
along with the interregnum procedure, indicates clearly that the patriciate
was concerned to give the senate (or at least its patrician members) a role

38 E.g. Livy 1.17.9; cf. also Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.60.3.

3 Dionysius seems in his account of the fifth century (contrast Ant. Rom. 1.14.3) to misinterpret
it as a preliminary senatorial decree, perhaps misled by Sullan propaganda (App. BCiv. 1.59.266) or
later non-technical usages such as ‘ex auctoritate patrum’ (‘with the senate’s sanction’).

40 Cf. the references solely to the centuriate and curiate assemblies in Cic. Dow. 38; Livy v1.q1.10.
But note Livy vt.q2.14; vi1.16.7.

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186 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

and powers which exceeded those of a body of advisers.4! Indeed, from
the outset it probably envisaged the senate as exercising a central
function in the decisions of the state. It was a public body which had to
meet on sacred or public ground formally constituted as a femp/lum, its
deliberations being preceded by the taking of public auspices and other
rituals. Admittedly, it was dependent on the magistrate for its summons
and, largely, for the subject and conduct of its debates, and senatorial
resolutions were presumably, as later, formulated in the language of
advice. That, however, inno way weakened their force in a society where
custom and the collective will of the aristocracy were at least as important
as statute in determining the effective character of political institutions.
Moreover, the individual magistrate would ignore or flout senatorial
advice at the expense of his own future interests. The ex-consul would
hope to spend most of his remaining years as a member of the senate in
which he had probably often sat before election. He was thus inevitably
more sensitive to the views of his peers than a life-long king to those of
his councillors. Indeed, his permanent importance depended far more on
the long-term influence he could wield in the senate than on the legal
power he enjoyed often for only a single year. If the weapons available to
the senate as a means of curbing magisterial independence increased in
the mid-Republic (p. 346), they may also have become more necessary as
Rome’s commanders operated for longer periods and at increasing
distances away from the city. In any case, the actual relations of consul to
council were always subject to variation according to the personalities
involved, the issues at stake and the general constellation of political
forces. In this respect the experience of the fifth century will have been no
different from that of the mid- and late Republic. Neither that nor the
later extension of the senate’s concerns with the growth of empire,
however, constitutes a valid ground for discounting the strong probabil-
ity that the senate had already acquired a central role in the decisions of
state.

(d) The consulship

For the Roman upper class in the late Republic the institution of the
annual dual consulship, in which two colleagues with equal powers

41 The fact that consuls controlled enrolment in the senate in the early Republic does not justify
Festus’ attempt (290 L) to explain the purpose of the Lex Ovinia by the hypothesis that previously
kings, consuls or consular tribunes had enlisted only their own associates. This supposition is based
on an over-literal interpretation of the senate as the consuls’ council (Mommsen 1887-8[Ag1],
111.856 n. 4), presumably on the analogy of the ad boc domestic council of the Roman paterfamilias. In
practice personal prudence, aristocratic expectations and public policy would combine to maintain
considerable continuity in the senate’s composition, with consuls more often supplementing than
replacing the existing membership (there was no formal ceiling); and such stability, if not inherited
from the regal period, will rapidly have been established as the norm. For a different view see p. 393f.

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 187

formed the chief executive of the state, was almost synonymous with the
republican system of government. Since it ensured the sharing of power,
it was a bulwark against domination by an individual and for the elite at
least a fundamental guarantee of their collective and personal political
liberty. Yet the uniform ancient view that such a dual magistracy was
established immediately after the overthrow of the monarchy has often
been challenged, usually in the belief that a single chief magistrate (with
or without subordinates) was essential for effective government. The
arguments adduced to support such a position*? are for the most part,
however, a priori. Other central Italian communities, for example, do
appear later to have had constitutions with a single magistrate at their
head but we cannot assume that this pattern was or had been uniform
throughout the region or that the Roman aristocracy would have felt
obliged to follow it.43 So too there is no reason to suppose that the
aristocracy regarded unified direction of the Roman state as of such
importance that it would not countenance the sharing of supreme power.
On the contrary, both political and administrative needs may have
recommended such an arrangement; indeed, collegiality (in the sense of
two or more colleagues with equal powers) seems rapidly to have
established itself as the hallmark of both the state and plebeian offices.
Nor was the consul’s power of effective action hampered by a general
right of veto exercised by his colleague, as is often assumed. Such a
general prerogative is not attested for the Roman state magistracies;* the
veto powers they did possess (which concerned predominantly judicial
rulings, summary punishments and senatorial decrees) were probably the
result of subsequent development, perhaps originating in the magis-
trate’s ability to issue contrary orders and in some cases parallel to, or a
consequence of, the recognition of tribunician veto against the magis-
trates. The only possible solid evidence for an original single chief
magistracy is an inscription discovered in the Capitoline temple, which
provided that ‘he who is the greatest praetor (‘qui praetor maximus sit’)
shall fix a nail on the Ides of September’ (Cincius ap. Livy vi1.3.5). Even
here, however, the term ‘greatest praetor’ does not necessarily refer to a
single chief magistrate.*5 Praetor maximus, for example, may itself have
been an archaic term for the consul and, as occasionally in later docu-
ments,* the singular may have been used without further distinction
even though the act is normally performed by either or both of two equal

4 For a convenient summary cf. Heurgon 1967[G616}, 97ff.

43 Cf. also the uncertainty surrounding the progress and timetable of the eclipse of monarchies in
Central Italy: p. 262f.

“ App. BCiv. 1.12.48; m1.50.206 refers to the tribunate alone, Cic. Leg. 11.11 to the veto of
legislation (cf. 111.42), /ex mun. Salp. (FIR A tn. 23) 27 apparently only to veto on appeal by a private
citizen (and not at Rome).

45 Momigliano 1968[G676], 159-75 (= id. Quarto Contribute 403-17).

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188 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

colleagues. Since it would then be possible to retain the consular list and
accept an early creation of the dictatorship (otiose if there were a regular
sole chief magistracy) an explanation along these lines is probably to be
accepted and with it an early institution of the consulship. This would
accord in particular with the manifest prevalence of collegiality in the
other republican offices, a principle to be extended still further in the
consular tribunate.

Ancient writers, influenced by Greek political theory and anxious to
emphasize the continuity of Roman political development, see the
republican chief magistracy as heir to the power of the kings. In contrast,
an influential modern view*’ draws a fundamental qualitative distinction
between the absolute power of the kings and the more restricted,
essentially conferred power exercised by the consuls. Both perspectives
are false, since they erroneously presuppose that the powers of the king
or magistrate were already conceived as an abstract unity distinct from
the office to which they pertained and as potentially or in fact conferred
by an act separate from appointment to the office itself. For such
conferment there is no certain evidence (the curiate law may originally
have served a different purpose (p. 198f)); the powers of an office may
have been implicitly regarded as a necessary concomitant of election or
appointment.

Even if, however, such powers were separately conferred, they were
not necessarily conceived as a single all-embracing unity. The term
imperium was used quasi-technically in a much later period to denote the
sum total of the magistrate’s powers; but as such it is apparently reserved
to those who might independently command Roman armies and is
employed principally in relation to military command, which may,
therefore, represent its original sphere of application. Whether imperium
already had even this restricted sense in the early Republic is not known
but the slow crystallization and differentiation of abstract general no-
tions of power and ownership in private law suggest that no precocious
growth of precisely defined concepts is to be expected here in the public
sphere.*8 It may have been when the powers of a magistrate were
prolonged beyond his term of office or conferred on individuals not
holding the magistracy concerned that they were first clearly conceived
as a distinct entity, although even then it is doubtful whether they were
felt to form a unity except by reference to their concentration in the office
in which they originated. If Roman tradition could be trusted, such a
process was already under way in 444 B.c. with the appointment of

4 Coli 1951[F14], 1-168.

48 There is no evidence for, or basis to, the view that ‘auspicium’ was originally used as a general
term for magisterial power (as Bleicken 1981[G;5 32]; Heuss 1982[G618]).

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 189

‘military tribunes with consular power’, but the title at least is probably a
later reconstruction (p. 193); at most these were military tribunes who in
practice exercised consular functions and therefore enjoyed comparable
powers.

What, therefore, was created in 509 was a magistracy with certain
functions and, as a necessary consequence, the powers deemed appro-
priate to those functions. So at the institution of the censorship certain
specific functions were taken from the regular chief magistrates and the
appropriate privileges and powers were accorded to the new office: the
censor may summon the people only for the purpose of the census itself;
he neither proposes legislation (despite Zonar. vi1.19) nor supervises
elections; he normally enjoys no right of military command (and there-
fore no imperium in the later quasi-technical sense); he has neither capital
powers of punishment nor lictors. He does, however, possess (in later
terminology) the greatest right to auspices, required for the conduct of
the census ceremonies, and is entitled to the curule chair and purple-
bordered toga (toga praetexta) worn by the higher magistrates .

Similarly, in relation to the consulship itself, there is no evidence that
military command and civil jurisdiction were conceived as the exercise of
a single common authority except by reference to their concentration in
the same hands. Jurisdiction as such was not later limited to those with
imperium nor even is it represented in its entirety as a function of imperium;
although later theory treats some legal actions as attached to ‘mperium,
imperium and iudicium (‘(power of) judgement’) can still appear as alterna-
tives (e.g. lex rep. 72; lex agr. 87). Earlier the diversity of the consuls’
functions was even reflected in their titulature: alongside the initial
praetor (‘(military) leader’) or later consul,*9 index (‘judge’) was also at
some stage used in formal contexts (Varro, Ling. v1.88).

In terms of concrete powers and functions the early consuls probably
differed little from their regal predecessors. They will have enjoyed full
military command, exercised jurisdiction, controlled public finance,
maintained public order, conducted the census, selected the senate,
perhaps appointed criminal judges and been responsible for vows, games
and other religious acts no less than the kings. The powers associated
with these various functions (probably largely determined by custom)
may also initially have been little different: in the military sphere the
republican magistrate enjoyed or acquired an unfettered authority which
can scarcely represent any dilution of the corresponding powers of the
monarchy, whilst in civil administration he possessed a discretionary
power only gradually subjected to certain formal limitations. Similarly,
certain magisterial insignia were attributed, probably correctly, a regal

49 For the initial use of ‘praetor’ cf. Stuart Jones 1928[A128], 437f.

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190 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

origin: the curule chair, and above all, the lictors and fasces denoting the
right to scourge and execute.*° A parallel continuity is observable also in
much of the religious activity of the magistrates (cf. e.g. p. 612).

What the aristocracy clearly found distasteful in the monarchy was not
its functions, powers and traditions as such but its permanent concentra-
tion of authority, power and status in the hands ofa single individual; and
it is here that the fundamental differences between the kingship and the
republican magistracies are to be found. These lay principally in the
limitation of office to a year, the probable provision of a colleague with
equal powers and growing comitial participation in the appointment of
magistrates (and, later, legislation). In addition, the general context and
perception of the magistrate’s role seems to have differed from that
which obtained under the monarchy. Some of the ritual functions of the
king were separated from the political and invested in a specially created
priest-king (rex sacrorum) with his own ‘house’ (Regia) on the Sacred
Way, close to the temple of Vesta. The ostensible status of the Regia as
both house and public shrine, and its proximity to the Vestals, their
public hearth and its sacred fire reflect a coherent religious structure in
which the monarch had been identified with, and acted as the symbol of,
the community itself. No comparable structure was created for the new
political and military executive, even though it too performed major
religious acts on behalf of the state: the consuls were not priests.5!
Moreover, the freedom of action enjoyed in practice by the republican
magistrates was probably far more restricted by their integration into an
aristocratic system in which the senate was to play a central role and by
the collective will of the aristocracy itself. In the military sphere the
disciplines of ‘hoplite’ warfare and the potential for autonomous action
or displays of personal virtuosity by individual aristocrats made a strong
command essential and may even have accentuated its severity, but
outside that the aristocracy will hardly have regarded its magistrates as
possessing universal and unlimited authority; their extensive discretion-
ary powers may not have been formally defined and may have been
progressively modified, but that does not imply that they either were or
were conceived to be absolute.

(e) The dictatorship

Alongside the consuls the historians chronicle the occasional naming of a
dictator who would assume supreme command of the state for a limited
period. The dictator was appointed after the appropriate religious obser-

5° And the magistrates celebrating a triumph may have resurrected for that day the trappings of

monarchy; cf. for discussion Versnel 1970{G742], esp. 56ff; Weinstock 1971{G317], 64-6; below,
p. 614. 5! And hence were not inaugurated as the king may have been (p. 96).

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 19!

vances at night by one of the consuls (or consular tribunes) and his
assumption of office was recognized by a curiate law (p. 198). Livy
(11.18.5) cites an alleged law that only men of consular rank were eligible
but our admittedly suspect records indicate that that was true only from
the early third century. The dictator was originally termed ‘master of the
army’>2 (magister populi), while his subordinate (and appointee) was still
known as the ‘master of cavalry’ (magister equitum) in the late Republic. In
antiquity the institution of the office was sometimes attributed partly to a
desire to remedy internal discord or frustrate plebeian agitation (e.g.
Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v.70.1ff; Zonar. vu1.13; ILS 212), a conception
which may owe much to Licinius Macer and the example of Sulla (cf.
Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v.77.4ff); but the titles of the dictator and his
assistant, the restriction of the office to a maximum of six months and the
accomplishments of those early dictators with the strongest claims to
credence demonstrate that, as other ancient authorities supposed (Pomp.
Dig. 1.2.2.18; Suda s.v. Sixrdtwp; cf. Livy 11.18.2ff), the office was
specifically military in purpose.

The ancient conception that the new office was required to circumvent
restrictions placed on the consulship by the Valerian law of appeal of 509
B.C. cannot be accepted, not least because that law is fiction (p. 220). Nor
was it perhaps intended purely as a crisis office; unless the requirement of
a law passed by the curiate assembly to confirm or acknowledge the
appointment is a later innovation, it implies no necessarily immediate
urgency in the appointment (there was no memory of a dictator named to
meet the initial Gallic assault of 390). The magistracy may have been as
much intended to provide unified leadership for a sustained major
campaign. Indeed, four of the most significant military successes of this
period are attributed to dictators: the defeat of the Latins at Lake Regillus
(499 or 496), victories against the Fidenates and Veientans by Mam.
Aemilius (probably duplicated under 437, 434 and 426), a major defeat of
the Aequi by A. Postumius Tubertus (432 or 431) and Camillus’ capture
of Veii (396). The reliability of these dictatorships, as of others in the fifth
century, is difficult to assess. Since the dictatorship was not eponymous,
its tenure may not have been recorded in the consular list and the
preservation of the names of many dictators was probably largely due to
family traditions (which were notoriously suspect). However, if trium-
phal records survived from the fifth century (p. 289) they will have
registered the more successful incumbents. Certainly Camillus’ capture
of Veii appears beyond cavil and the other successes involved are at least
credible (p. 289; 298f). If historical, they too indicate that the dictator-
ship was not restricted to sudden emergencies.

52 So still in the augural books (Cic. Rep. 1.63). For this sense of ‘populus’ cf. p. 104.

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192 §- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

The haphazard survival of early dictatorships excludes any assessment
of their frequency. Even the date of the office’s institution is uncertain.
Very early sources named T. Larcius as its first incumbent} but the date
of his tenure was evidently unknown since it was implausibly located in
his first (501) or second (498) consulship. Larcius, however, belongs to
an obsolete gens for whom aclaim to the first dictatorship might hardly be
invented, although the means by which the memory of his colourless
tenure was preserved remain problematic.*4 The provisions that the
dictator should be appointed at dead of night and might not mount a
horse suggest that it was an archaic office. It is not unlikely that it was
created soon after the establishment of the Republic, when external
pressures may well have illustrated the need for a unified military
command and the cavalry may still have enjoyed a distinct, if subordi-
nate, military role, but more than that we cannot say.55

Whether the office had earlier precedents is unknown. Given its initial
purely military character (dictators, for example, never supervised civil
jurisdiction), it is unlikely to be a temporary reversal to an earlier system
of a sole chief magistrate or to be borrowed from similar systems
elsewhere (as Licinius Macer fr. 1oP). If the dictator (or dicator) of the
Latin League was appointed to take charge of a specific campaign, his
office may have exercised some influence on the Roman institution,
despite the initial difference of nomenclature: at least some dictators may
have served as league commanders (so presumably Postumius in 432 or
431, if authentic)5” and the Latin title have been transferred to the Roman
magistracy. Alternatively, there may have been some regal provision for
the appointment of a commander when the king himself could not take
the field and this precedent was subsequently reshaped to meet republi-
can needs, but such possibilities lie beyond the limits imposed by our
evidence.

(f) The consular tribunate

In the preserved fasti between 444 and 427 B.c. colleges of two consuls
alternate irregularly with colleges of three ‘military tribunes with con-

53 Livy 1.18.5. A later Valerian tradition claimed the distinction for M.’ Valerius (Festus 216 L;
Livy 1.18.6).

34 Unless he was initially credited with the defeat of the Latins at L. Regillus (cf. Livy 1.18.3;
Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v.76.1-4; Zonar. vit.13), the variant datings of which (499 and 496) run
parallel to those of his dictatorship.

55 An obvious alternative is to date its introduction to the period of the consular tribunate, when
there would, on occasion, be still greater need for a single supreme commander.

% Staveley 1956[G724], 90ff.

57 It is possible, however, that some individuals in fact appointed as league commanders were
later erroneously interpreted as dictators (Pinsent 1959[B139}, 85).

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 193

sular power’; between 426 and 406 there is a similar fluctuation between
two consuls and three or four consular tribunes. From 405 to 367,
however, there is an almost uniform series of six-member colleges (albeit
often abbreviated in Diodorus)*8 interrupted only by a temporary rever-
sion to the consulship in 393/z.

The ancient characterizations of the consular tribune as ‘military
tribune’, ‘military tribune with consular power’ or the equivalent imply
that he was later regarded essentially as a military tribune acting as a
substitute for the consuls.59 Yet there is no evidence or probability that
the ‘consular tribunes’ differed in function or in powers from the
‘consuls’; that no consular tribune triumphed (Zonar. v1.19) may merely
reflect the defective character of the triumphal records or the custom of
appointing a dictator for the most important campaigns. In consequence,
it is difficult to see why the larger colleges should have been separately
named, at least if the late fifth-century fluctuations are accepted. Con-
ceivably in years where they were elected, they fulfilled the functions of
both consuls and military tribunes but the reason for the adoption of the
subordinate title remains obscure. In character, therefore, and perhaps
even in nomenclature the consulship and consular tribunate may have
been identical (both offices are often held interchangeably by the same
individuals, even though ancient sources carefully distinguish between
repeated tenure of each). The distinction drawn by Roman historians
would then be a false deduction from the subsequent constant associ-
ation of the consulship with a dual magistracy and from the later practice
of electing six military tribunes for each of the first four legions.

If this is correct, the dominant ancient explanation of the office, that it
was designed to facilitate admission of plebeians to office without
compromising the patrician monopoly of the consulship, can hardly be
sustained. It is in any case implausible since on Livy’s own showing
plebeians only secured election in 400 and admission to the more junior
quaestorship in 421. Two consular tribunes with names known other-
wise only as plebeian do appear before goo (L. Atilius Luscus (444) and
Q. Antonius Merenda (422)) but that is hardly sufficient to justify the
ancient interpretation of the office, especially as both are suspect. The

58 Hence only four consular tribunes are recorded in 376, for which Diodorus alone gives a
regular list. The five-member college of 385 is also probably due to abbreviation. The eight- or nine-
member colleges of 389, 387, 380 and 379 probably result from the incorporation either of names
from colleges now lost or of names interpolated in one or more earlier sources to compensate for a
defective transmission of the original list: cf. Drummond 1980[D9], 57ff; below, p. 239f.

59 So also, e.g., Sealey 1959[G709], 521-30; Sumner 1970[G728}, 70-3; Pinsent 1975(D26], 5 1-
61.

© This is also presumably the basis for the strange notion (e.g. Livy 1v.16.6) that there were six
places as consular tribune available each year from the outset, three for patricians and three for
plebeians according to Dionysius (Ast. Rom. x1.60; cf. Zonar. vit.19), here evidently influenced by
the later partitioning of the consulship.

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194 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

Antonii are absent from office until the second century, with the excep-
tion of T. Antonius Merenda of the problematic Second Decemvirate
and a dubious magister equitum of 333. The Atilii may be a Campanian
family, which would certainly exclude an appearance in the fas#i at this
date,®! but in any case the magistrates of 444 B.C. are a notorious crux
(p. 174 n. 8) and the election of a single plebeian followed by a patrician
monopoly until 400 cannot be accepted. More probably the alleged later
admission of plebeians to the consular tribunate created the notion that
the office was introduced for that reason. Antonius or Atilius may, of
course, be the scions of obsolete patrician clans; otherwise they represent
spurious additions or an early corruption of the authentic names.

An alternative ancient conjecture, attributing the consular tribunate
to increasing military needs (Livy tv.17.2), is probably nearer the truth.
The later fifth century in general may have seen a more aggressive (or
progressively more successful) external policy, the establishment of the
six-member colleges in 405 was swiftly followed by a major offensive
against Veii and the reversion to the dual consulship in 393/2, if authen-
tic, may mark an interlude in Roman military activities. Yet it is difficult
to see why it should be necessary to increase the numbers of the principal
military commanders to this extent; in 367 B.c. when the consular
tribunate was abolished, three at most were deemed sufficient. Their
progressive enlargement and variation in numbers has sometimes been
interpreted as reflecting changes in army strength, each consular tribune
taking charge of 1000 men, but a doubling of army manpower in the late
fifth century is difficult to credit (p. 165), as is the assumption that the
field forces required could be calculated in advance each year. Moreover,
there is no evidence that the consular tribunes commanded individual
contingents rather than (as the consuls) the entire force nor is it likely that
they all took the field for a particular campaign. More probably increas-
ing military needs were accompanied by a general growth in domestic
administration, of which the institution of the censorship and alleged
increase in the quaestorship in 421 may also be symptomatic; when the
six-member college was abolished in 367, it was replaced by two consuls,
one praetor (primarily in charge of civil jurisdiction) and two curule
aediles (with various subordinate domestic responsibilities).

Political factors may also have contributed to the office’s later devel-
opment.. There may have been a desire to extend further the collegiate
character of the chief magistracy. The establishment of six-member
colleges from 405 B.c. may be partly attributable to the fact that two
members of the same clan held office together for the first time in 406

61 Heurgon 1942[J59], 288-94; but cf. Schulze r904[G1 38], 151 n. 3; Beloch 1926{Arz], 338f;
Frederiksen 1984[}48], 231.

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 195

B.C.; from 405 this becomes a frequent practice. The consular tribunate
also gave greater opportunities for the repeated tenure of office (even on
occasions in successive years) without thereby denying access to the
magistracies to others. It thus allowed a regular blending of experienced
men with new blood and in the developed period of the office (from
c. 426) few colleges include no previous holder of the chief magistracy.

One major puzzle remains: how are the variations between the dual
consulship and three or four member consular tribunates in the later fifth
century to be explained? It has been argued that they are unlikely to
reflect prospective army strength. A more promising solution is that they -
are due to corruption in transmission, concealing what was in fact a
regular pattern of increase. However, whilea few interpolations may be
suspected (p. 174), there is no evidence for widespread invention. On the
other hand, if loss of names was the major factor, such losses would have
had to be large-scale and early if the enlargement of the office was more
orderly than the surviving lists indicate, and it would then be difficult to
explain why the larger colleges from ¢. 405 B.c. are far more faithfully
preserved. If, however, the variation in the size of the late fifth-century
colleges is authentic, perhaps the most plausible approach is to suppose
that until gos the presiding magistrate at elections exercised discretion in
the number elected, depending on anticipated military and other needs
and perhaps also on the number of well-qualified candidates who secured
the necessary quota of votes.

(g) The quaestors, quaestores parricidii and duoviri (perduellionis )

Specialized offices to relieve the consuls of individual responsibilities
were slow to develop. The earliest were probably in the spheres of
criminal law and finance. Later sources regard the chief magistrates as
possessing a reserve right to conduct criminal trials but in practice
regular criminal jurisdiction in the early Republic is attributed to other,
subordinate officials. The financial officers (quaestors) are very oc-
casionally described as conducting capital criminal prosecutions on a
variety of charges (treason, false witness and peculation), but these trials
are uniformly fictitious®> and though quaestors in the mid-Republic
certainly conducted some criminal prosecutions (Varro, Ling. v1.91—2),
the charges are unknown; they may have concerned only the
misappropriation of public funds, an offence closely connected with the
quaestors’ financial functions.® In the early period cases of treason at
least seem to have been handled by a specially appointed two-man

82 Beloch 1926{Arz2], 260-2; cf. Pinsent 1975[D26]. 63} Kunkel 1962(G245], 34-5.

* On Oros. v.16.8 (Jones 1972(G228], sf) cf. Kunkel 1962{G245], 47 n. 179 with Badian
1984[G169], 306-9.

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196 5- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

commission (dyoviri). For (kin-?)murder the Twelve Tables (1x.4) re-
corded other specific officials (the quaestores parricidii), although whether
these presided over private suits or themselves conducted a publicly
initiated enquiry is disputed. In either event they, like the duoviri, were
presumably appointed on an ad hoc basis.

If this is so, there is unlikely to be any continuity between the quaestores
parricidii and the financial quaestors since the transformation of an ad hoc
judicial office into a regular magistracy of much wider purpose is not
readily explained. Moreover, the guaestores parricidti were evidently still a
distinct office at the time of the Twelve Tables and the financial quaes-
tors can also hardly be dated later than the fifth century. Their institu-
tion is variously ascribed by our sources to the regal period or the first
year of the Republic, and certainly in the fifth century the financial
activities of the state, together with the increased workload of the chief
magistrates, may well have made specialist surveillance desirable. Taci-
tus’ view (Ann. x1.22) that the quaestors were originally nominated by
the king or consuls seems more probable than the supposition®™ that the
office was elective from the start, although its basis is problematic.®’
Tacitus also ascribes the introduction of election to 447 B.c. and if
plebeians held the office in 409 (but cf. p. 239), it was presumably elective
then. The quaestors were later, however, elected by the tribal assembly
whose official use is not otherwise attested until the mid-fourth cen-
tury, and Tacitus’ record of a Valerius, probably the consul of 449,
among the first elected quaestors inspires no confidence in his accuracy.

Originally two in number, the quaestors were reputedly raised to four
in 421. That tradition cannot be controlled. Livy (1v.43.4) and Tacitus
(loc. cit.) describe the earliest quaestors as urban or military respectively
but such precision (and the resulting disagreement between them) may
be misplaced; the original pair may have fulfilled both functions, which
were distinguished only when the office was enlarged. In the military
sphere later practice suggests that the quaestors acted as general assis-
tants to their commander and were not limited to the supervision of the
war chest and supplies. Comparable unambiguous evidence is lacking for
the exercise of domestic functions beyond those associated with their

65 The use of ‘quaestor’ (from Latin guaerere (‘to investigate’ or ‘to exact’)) for both types of
consular assistant is unlikely to have arisen independently. The term may have been first created for
the regular quaestors as financial officers (cf. Ed. Meyer 1907-3 7[A79], 111.481) and then reapplied to
the ad hoc judicial commissioners (quaestores parricidit) on the basis of the inquisitorial connotations of
its verbal root. Alternatively, the financial officers may also have exercised some ‘judicial’ responsi-
bilities in the financial sphere or initially have conducted the preliminary capital enquiries sub-
sequently entrusted to the tresviri capitales (cf. Varro, Ling. v.81).

6 Tunius Gracchanus ap. Ulp. Dig. 1.13.1pr.; Plut. Pab/. 12.3.

67 The curiate law for L. Iunius Brutus (cos. 509) to which Tacitus has just referred can hardly have
been authentic.

68 Apart from a fictitious narrative under 446 B.c.: Livy m1.72.6; Dion. Hal. Ant, Rom. x1.52.3;
Ogilvie 1965[Brz9], 523.

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 197

responsibility for the treasury, but here too they may initially have had a
potentially much broader role than was to be true later.

(h) The censorship

The attribution of the censorship to the mid-fifth century rests on a
slender basis, since most of the six preserved colleges before the Gallic
Sack are suspect. In particular, the first censors (L. Papirius Mugillanus
and L. Sempronius Atratinus in 443) appeared as consuls the previous
year in the Linen Books and Ardeate treaty. If that evidence is reliable
(p. 174 n. 8), their immediate joint tenure of the censorship may represent
a transformation of their consulship when it was lost from the annalistic
tradition.» The first censors would then be those of 435 (C. Furius
Pacilus Fusus and M. Geganius Macerinus); a tradition to that effect may
be reflected in the supposition that they first used the censors’ building
(villa publica) in the Campus Martius (Livy 1v.22.7) and that their tenure
of office was now limited to eighteen months by a Lex Aemilia, although
this narrative itself (Livy rv.24.2ff) is replete with suspect detail and
probably fictitious.

The new office was self-evidently established to relieve the consuls of
the burden of the census. There may have been other duties early
attributed to the censors (e.g. the leasing of a few minor state contracts)
but most of their other functions and powers were probably subsequent
accretions (so too Livy rv.8.2). Thus they seem only in the fourth century
to have taken over from the consuls responsibility for the composition of
the senate (p. 393) and their role as arbiters of conduct will have
developed progressively out of their supervision of the census.

Whether their institution (whatever its date) signals a widening of the
basis or function of the census itself is unknown. The census may
originally have taken the form of a full military review;7 it always
retained that character for the equestrian centuries and the traditional
summons of the citizen infantry to the census, under arms and with no
restriction to heads of households (‘’arro, Ling. v1.86f), suggests that it
had once performed the same function in their case also. Nonetheless, its
periodic character indicates that it was more than a military inspection,
which would more appropriately be conducted annually, not least to
permit the incorporation of those newly qualified by age for service. The
census must already have comprised an individual assessment of liability
for military service on a wealth basis,’! if not tribal registration of the
entire citizen body. With the development of the centuriate assembly as a

© Fora defence of the censors of 443 B.C. ef.,¢.g., Leuze 1912[G645], 95-133; Klotz 1939[G629],
27ff. 7 Pieri 1968[G689], 47-75-

1" The Twelve Tables may have included the term ‘duicensus’ (/r. incert. 12) to denote a man
assessed with his son.

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198 §. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

political forum, these functions may have been extended in some way and
if (as is possible) obligation for military service had hitherto been based
purely on the capacity to provide the relevant weapons, the introduction
of the censorship may also be linked to the introduction of a formal
assessment in ‘monetary’ terms.”2 What is certain is that the dual charac-
ter of the census, as determining not only military responsibilities but
also political rights, must have become increasingly evident as the
powers of the centuriate assembly grew and a gulf gradually developed
between the military and political organization of the citizen body.

(i) The assemblies

The oldest Roman assembly, the curiate (comitia curiata), still witnessed
or sanctioned comitial wills and the adoption of men not subject to
paternal power in the early Republic, although already comitial involve-
ment in acts affecting the familia was declining and was not required for
at least some of the procedures whereby slaves received both freedom
and citizenship. Quasi-political decisions are also still attributed to the
curiate assembly: it allegedly voted Camillus’ restoration from exile and,
according to one tradition, was used initially for the election of plebeian
tribunes. That, however, is probably mere conjecture, based on the belief
that the tribal plebeian assembly was introduced only in 471 B.c.; if that
belief is correct (cf. p. 217), voting may earlier have been by general
acclamation, not specific units.

The only significant regular act of the curiate assembly was the curiate
law which allegedly confirmed at least the principal magistrates in office.
If this was not an inheritance from the regal period (p. 105), it will belong
to the very early Republic since the comparable law for the censors was
already entrusted to the centuriate assembly (comitia centuriata). The
function of the law is controversial. In the late Republic it was regarded
as necessary to the full validity of the magistrate’s position and some-
times to the exercise of his office, particularly in the military sphere. Yet
lack of the law seems, on occasion at least, to have imposed no concrete
restriction on magisterial action. In part this may be due to the decay of
the curiate assembly into a mere form. It may also, however, reflect an
ambiguity which had arisen through changed perceptions of the law’s
function. Assertions that it confirmed the grant of the magistracy are
evidence only for its later interpretation, which may be influenced by
contemporary notions of statute as an order of the people and of the
people itself as the source of magisterial authority. Originally the /x
curiata may have served a different purpose, as a formal acknowledge-

72 Pieri 1968[G689], 125-50.

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 199

ment by the community of the magistrate’s assumption of office. Such a
hypothesis would explain the apparent duplication between election to
office and the passage of the curiate law. It would also explain how in the
late Republic the law could sometimes be dispensed with in practice, yet
also on occasions be conceived as essential to the proper tenure of
magisterial powers: a declaration that A. Sempronius and Q. Fabius
should be consuls, originally a formal act of recognition (perhaps carried
over from the monarchy and executed by acclamation (suffragium)),
could be readily reinterpreted later as a constitutive act confirming their
appointment, particularly if some general description of the powers of
the office was gradually added. It is a further attractive conjecture’ that
in origin such a curiate law was an act of the army meeting in curiate
divisions, which thereby acknowledged the assumption of military
command and the obedience owed to the new commander. This would
also provide an illuminating backcloth for the later development of the
centuriate organization as a political assembly. However, sucha particu-
lar character to the curiate law would have disappeared once the curiae
ceased to be the basis of the army, probably in the sixth century, and no
trace is evident in the vestigial assembly responsible for the law in the late
Republic.

Whilst the curiate assembly probably suffered no diminution of its role
(accounts of it exercising wider functions under the monarchy are not to
be credited (cf. p. 105)), such new functions as were acquired by popular
assemblies in the fifth century accrued to the centuriate assembly.
However, the stages by which this body evolved from a single military
classis of heavy-armed infantry with accompanying cavalry and light-
armed troops into the later complex political structure of five wealth-
based c/asses, each organized into units (‘centuries’) for voting purposes,
are controversial. Behind the later political organization seems to lie a
structure based ona hoplite force of Gooo (the later notional complement
of a Roman legion) since in the historians’ account it was the sixty
centuries of young men from the first three c/asses who-had the heavy
infantry armour (cf. Table 2: p. 164). The division of that force into three
classes (the first including forty centuries of younger men, the second and
third ten each) has been thought to reflect a situation in which a single
classis of 4000 was supplemented by the progressive enlistment in the
later fifth century of tooo younger men not previously employed for
‘hoplite’ service into each of two new c/asses,”4 perhaps as a result of anew
readiness to admit to the infantry men who could not afford the full
‘hoplite’ panoply. Yet in our sources the differences in armament be-

73 Cf. Latte 1936(G639), 59-73 = id. Kleine Schriften 341-34.
74 E.g., Sumner 1970[G728], 67-78.

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200 5- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

tween classes II and III at least were minimal, concerning merely the
presence or absence of greaves.”> This provides no convincing basis fora
separate military classification. Moreover, if the later ratio of property
valuations between the classes obtained from their inception, those
qualified for the first class would, on this hypothesis, enjoy twice the
numerical strength of those with property valued at 50 per cent or more
of the minimum required for admission to class I. That is improbable per
se and such substantial differences of wealth cannot be realistically
correlated with the comparatively small distinctions in armament in-
volved, particularly again between classes II and III.

More probably, therefore, these distinctions, at least in their historical
form, were established later for political reasons, when military man-
power exceeded considerably the sixty notional centuries allotted to
those who qualified for the heavy infantry. The reason for the innovation
can only be conjectured but the probable regular exaction of tributum in
the later fourth century may have sharpened claims for enhanced political
status by the relatively affluent. The newly established ratio of values and
allocation of centuries among the first three c/asses were designed explic-
itly to favour those who now qualified for the first class and it was they
who retained (or appropriated) the appellation of the ‘classis’ in tra-
ditional parlance. The cavalry even more effectively preserved their
privileged position since increases in the number of those granted a
public horse (the eventual total of 1800 can hardly antedate the late
fourth century) were accompanied by a corresponding increase in the
number of equestrian centuries, each maintained at 100 strong.

The differentiation of classes within the ‘hoplite’ force as it is known
later may not, therefore, belong to the fifth century,’ but the growing
political role of the centuriate organization was probably already respon-
sible for some innovations. The later system of allocating the older men
(seniores) the same number of centuries as the ianiores has no military
justification since each would have perhaps no more than a third of the
complement of the corresponding junior century. It must, therefore, be
viewed in political terms. That it should give their vote disproportionate
weight, both in numerical terms and in terms of their military contribu-
tion, is indicative of the influence and authority generally accorded to the
older members of the community. It also broke decisively with any
concept of the century as a unit of a hundred men, thus accelerating the

78 Both classes II and III are also given the oblong shield called the sextum rather than the round
hoplite c/ipews but for the sixth and fifth centuries that may be anachronistic (Kienast 1975[H45], 94),
perhaps betraying the late origin of the differentiation of equipment. See, however, Saulnier
1980[G706], 71ff for a possible example of the combination of the two types of armanent from
Bologna.

% In defence of earlier dates cf., ¢.g., Fraccaro 1931[Gs79], 91-7 (= id. Opuscula 11.287-92);
1934({G581], 57-71 (= id. Opuscula 11.293—306); Last 1945{G638], 42-4.

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 201

divorce between the organization of the political assembly and the army.
In the former the century was now a unit of variable size and the total
number of centuries (junior and senior) could remain unchanged despite
their lack of correlation with actual manpower; the fixing at sixty of the
political centuries assigned to those ‘younger men’ who qualified for the
heavy infantry is presumably a consequence of this.

The light-armed may similarly have claimed some place in the assem-
bly. Presumably they too already had their own military organization but
whenever they were incorporated into the centuriate political assembly,
their units must have been adjusted to reduce the significance of their
votes drastically. When the single century of proletarii (those levied only
in emergencies) was similarly established is impossible to determine, but
two of the major sources of political discontent in the ftfth century may
precisely have been claims to an enhanced political role for the centuriate
assembly and, as a consequence, demands that it include the entire adult
male citizen body.”

The use of the centuriate organization as a political assembly was
certainly well under way in the early Republic; the red flag raised on the
Janiculum during its meetings to warn of enemy attack belongs most
appropriately before the destruction of Veii (396 B.c.) and the use of a
centuriate rather than a curiate law for the censors presumably dates from
the establishment of that office. In seeking to demonstrate the illegality
of his exile in 58 B.c. Cicero (Sest. 65; Rep. 11.61; Leg. 111.11; cf. Twelve
Tables 1x. 1-2) alleged that the Twelve Tables prohibited the passage of
bills concerning an individual’s status except through the ‘greatest
assembly’ (comitiatus maximus) and identified the ‘greatest assembly’ as
the comitia centuriata. If that is correct, it implies that the centuriate
assembly had already eclipsed the curiate.

Cicero interpreted this provision as confining all capital jurisdiction to
the centuriate assembly and elsewhere attributed both this and a ban on
privilegia (interpreted as bills directed at specific individuals) to otherwise
unknown ‘hallowed laws’ (/eges sacratae).’8 By leges sacratae Cicero may
understand measures sponsored by the plebeian tribunes (p. 223) but the
rules of the Twelve Tables, if authentic, seem designed to curb
tribunician attempts to force through plebiscites inflicting penalties on
those who defied their intervention. Thus the restriction of measures
imposing a capital penalty to the centuriate assembly (to which the
tribunes can have had no access in the fifth century) clearly refers only to
the passage of comitial proposals, not to the infliction of legally sanc-
tioned penalties, and is evidently intended to prevent their presentation

7 The centuries of ‘engineers’ (fabri) and musicians are also artificial but could have been created
for the purposes of military review. 78 Cic. Dom. 43; Sest. 65.

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202 j- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY IT

to the plebeian assembly.” Hence the Decemviral measures provide no
basis for fathering a wide-ranging capital jurisdiction on the comitia
centuriata. Indeed, since the alleged quaestorial comitial prosecutions of
this period are fiction and the dwoviri at least seem to have passed
judgement in cases of treason without reference to the people, the
centuriate assembly may not at this stage have been involved in first
instance criminal jurisdiction at all.8°

Its most important role in the Roman tradition is the election of chief
magistrates. That has sometimes been regarded as an error: the consul
initially either merely named his successors or brought for the assembly’s
approval the number of names required to fill the available places.8! The
two principal arguments for such views are the wide discretionary
powers later enjoyed by the presiding magistrate and the fact that he is
said to ‘create’ (creare) the new magistrate when announcing his election.
These arguments are inconclusive. The announcement of the result of an
election was the constitutive act by which the successful candidate
formally secured office and the term creare is therefore appropriate to it. It
is notable in fact that creare is seldom used of the consul’s nomination of a
dictator (for which dicere (‘name’) is normal) and it is commonly em-
ployed in contexts where a popular vote is involved. As to the later rights
of the presiding magistrate to bar candidates, these served principally asa
check on the assembly if it sought to elect individuals whom he deemed
unacceptable on grounds of their qualifications or the interests of the
state Or aristocracy (not his own personal preference). There was no
formal requirement, at least in the mid-Republic, that only those whose
candidacy had been notified to, and accepted by, the presiding magistrate
could present themselves for election (though that may have become
usual) and the assembly itself might even elect from outside the number
of declared candidates.

The control exercised by the presiding magistrate is therefore negative
in character and, if anything, an argument against an original naming of
his successors. Admittedly, the nomination of the dictator, city prefect
and (probably) quaestors shows that a popular vote was not regarded as
fundamental to the magistracies in the early Republic, but we have no
clear evidence of such a practice for the early consulship and the
aristocratic requirement of the successive rotation of office (p. 206)
may have demanded some more broadly based system of selection.

7 The Decemviral ban on privilegia, if Cicero’s interpretation is correct, may also have specifically
applied to the tribunes (it is otherwise difficult to reconcile with the passage of bills inflicting a
capital penalty).

50 On ‘appeal to the people’ against magisterial penalties cf. p. 219f.

81 Cf. Mommsen 1887-8[Ag1], 1.470-1; Tibiletti 1950[G738], 3-21. Against the view (Staveley
1954/5[G722], 193-211) that throughout the republican period the énterrex also nominated the new
consuls for approval by the assembly cf. Jahn 1970[G623], 25-7.

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 203

Conceivably that could have been secured by making consular nomina-
tion subject to senatorial and even popular approval but it is no less
possible that from the outset it was found politically expedient to allow
any patrician who wished to stand and to give the military forces of the
new Republic an active role in the appointment of their regular com-
manders (which might reinforce their allegiance in the field). If not, such
episodes as the Fabian domination of office between 485 and 479 may
rapidly have led to the introduction of election. Certainly whenever the
right was conceded, it will have acted as a significant factor in
moderating antagonism towards aristocratic rule, although patrician
interests were safeguarded by the right of the presiding officer to debar
unacceptable candidates and by making the election subject to the patrum
auctoritas. Hence even if plebeians formed a majority of the assembly
there were formal mechanisms to reinforce the patrician monopoly of
office should it be challenged.

Given the original military character of the centuriate organization,
the declaration of war was presumably also amongst its earliest func-
tions, if not a major starting point for its whole development asa political
assembly. It may also have sanctioned treaties but the evidence here is
inconclusive. In these cases, as in all its legislative dealings, the assembly
was, of course, entirely dependent on magisterial summons and magiste-
rial proposals which it could only accept or reject; and the measures
which it accepted had then to receive the sanction of the patrum auctoritas.
Even so, the extent of its legislative role at this date is doubtful. The
measure cited by Livy (vit.17.12; cf. 1x.34.6f; Twelve Tables xi1.5) from
the Twelve Tables (‘let what the people has ordered last be the law and
valid’) would suggest considerable legislative activity but its authenticity
is dubious. Although it is manifestly designed to resolve conflicts
between laws or other acts of the people and need not imply any active
belief in popular sovereignty,®2 the wording of the law has certainly been
modernized, a reference to the need for patrician sanction (patrum
auctoritas) of the legislation concerned might be expected and there is
little other evidence for extensive use of comitial enactment. The law of
472 B.c. recorded on an inscription still available to Varro (Macrob. Sat.
1.13.21) indicates that some legislative activity occurred but its content is
unknown. The Twelve Tables may have envisaged the possibility of
capital proposals directed against individuals but if so, this was largely to
outlaw tribunician proposals to the plebs. Statute made only a restricted
contribution to the development of private law in the later republic and,
with the possible exception of the Twelve Tables themselves, can hardly
have been more widely employed in the fifth century. The political order

82 Contrast Appian’s interpretation of a similar bogus regal enactment (Pa. $31).

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204 5. ROMEIN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

itself was largely moulded by custom and practice and even the most
fundamental constitutional innovations may have no statutory basis,
despite the procedural anxieties of some later writers to supply one.
There is no firm evidence for general laws defining an individual
magistracy, its functions and prerogatives, and even the creation of new
offices may have had no legislative foundation. Livy’s alleged law
creating the dictatorship is clearly a later fiction (p. 191), as is that of
Dionysius (Ant. Rom. v.70.5) leaving the senate to make the first
appointment. A measure creating the consular tribunate as an office open
to both plebeians and patricians (Livy 1v.35.11) is equally spurious and
little faith can be placed in essentially casual references to other laws
establishing the consulship (Pomp. Dig. 1.2.2.16) or censorship (Livy
1X.34.7). Such innovations are in general not attributed a legislative basis
and the same is true even of the creation of the praetorship and curule
aedileship in 367 B.c. The other alleged politica] legislation of this period
is largely fabrication, none entirely free from doubt. So far as our
evidence goes, therefore, whilst the centuriate assembly was the princi-
pal, indeed probably sole source of comitial legislation, the scope and
quantity of such legislation are likely to have been limited. That may
reflect only our ignorance but more probably these functions developed
gradually, one major consequence of the emergence and success of
popular demands for political reform.

(j) Conclusion

The piecemeal development of the republican organs of government
reflects their origin as a response to immediate political or administrative
needs rather than as the implementation of a preconceived overall design
or the application of a general constitutional theory. Indeed, early
innovations such as the dictatorship betray the potential inadequacy of
the original arrangements. Such theoretical treatment as the constitution
was accorded was essentially a development of the late Republic and
therefore post eventum; in the fifth century even the powers of the
magistrate were probably not treated as a unitary concept. Although
certain recurrent principles can be seen in the form and structure of the
magistracies, these must be viewed in the context of contemporary
political requirements, predominantly those of the ruling patriciate.
This hereditary aristocracy had probably largely crystallized under the
later monarchy as a result of increasing economic power (fostered by
Roman expansion), the growing need for legal and religious expertise,
which the kings could not meet alone, their own military prowess and the
comparative weakness of the central authority which encouraged the
acquisition of personal followings. The importance of the aristocracy

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 20§

already in the regal period is emphasized in the interregnum procedure,
which implies at some stage a non-hereditary concept of monarchy with
the aristocracy playing a central role in the appointment of a new
incumbent; and even where rulers seized power by force, they had to
come to terms with at least a substantial element of the elite if they were to
survive. Indeed, it was presumably the anxiety of the more powerful
clans to buttress their own position with respect to the monarchy which
led to the assertion of collective rights, particularly in relation to senato-
rial membership, and this was further reinforced by demands that
important offices (notably the major priesthoods) should be filled from
the ranks of those so privileged.

The evolution of such an aristocracy into a closed caste is difficult to
trace. Although a number of families may have achieved a de facto
position of hereditary privilege comparatively early, the notion of this as
an exclusive group may have been slow to take root and its composition
may therefore have remained elastic. Names of Etruscan origin in the
historical patriciate, for example, may largely reflect sixth-century immi-
grants, some taking advantage of the ‘open’ character of contemporary
aristocratic society (p. 261), others perhaps partisans whom individual
monarchs had sought to promote. Equally, the fall of a particular ruler
may have resulted in the removal of some of his adherents; it is not
necessary to accept the legend of Tarquinius Collatinus’ exile in 509% in
order to suppose that such expulsions followed the departure of
Tarquinius Superbus. Conceivably, it was only at the overthrow of the
monarchy, when the right to hold supreme office in the new Republic
became a critical issue and created a powerful motive for fixing irrevoca-
bly the circle of those qualified to exercise political power, that the
concept of a closed patriciate was finally established and even then there
may have been some fluidity in its composition (now untraceable in
detail) with individual families unable to retain their status while others
(like the Claudii) secured later recognition. Nonetheless, it is the growth
in power of this aristocracy in the sixth century and its progressive
development of a sense of common collective interests and privilege
which must lie behind the revolution of 509, and the political system then
established served principally its interests.

Arguably the most urgent domestic problem was the stability of the
patriciate itself, threatened from within by powerful individuals attended
by clansmen, comrades and clients. Certainly the patriciate sought to
express in constitutional terms its collective role in the government of
the state. Hence the maintenance of the interregnum procedure, the
institution (at whatever date) of the patrum auctoritas, and also probably

83 Piso fr. 19P; Cic. Rep. 11.33; Livy 1.2.1ff; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v.off; etc.

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206 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY ITI

the ascription to the senate of a major role in decision-making. Though
each chief magistrate possessed in his own right the wide powers deemed
necessary, particularly for military command (his likely principal func-
tion), tenure of office was limited to a year and probably from the outset
collegiality was an invariable feature of the regular Roman magistracies,
offering the possibility of a check on personal misuse of power, but still
more encouraging co-operation in the execution of their responsibilities.
Moreover, the pattern of entry into office (Table 3) shows a rapid
introduction of numerous families in the first three decades of the
Republic. Although office might be held more than once, for most of the
fifth century it apparently could not be held in successive years® nor
could two members of the same clan hold the chief magistracy together, a
rule or practice which sought to prevent individual monopolization of
power and thus ensure its distribution among the aristocracy. Admit-
tedly che enlargement of the consular tribunate was accompanied by
some relaxation of these rules, but this rapid expansion of the chief
magistracy itself serves to emphasize its collective and co-operative
character. Only in one circumstance was an exception made; characteris-
tically that was in the military sphere where it was expected that on
occasion a consul would voluntarily forego his own position as the
state’s chief executive and in particular as its military leader by appoint-
ing a dictator who exercised supreme command alone. Even here,
however, the dictator’s tenure of office was restricted to a maximum of
six months and the aristocratic distaste for such unfettered power
insisted that in practice he resign once he had accomplished the purpose
for which he was appointed.

These political arrangements could not entirely forestall individual
aristocratic ambition, at least if the legends of Sp. Cassius and Manlius
Capitolinus have a core of truth, and individual followings may have
continued to be a potent factor. In the last resort, however, the
patriciate’s cohesion withstood these challenges. A number of factors no
doubt contributed: the social bonds within the aristocracy itself may
have become more wide-ranging and complex; private free-booting was
probably progressively restricted, at least on land;85 above all, whereas

84 Apart from the dubious examples of P. Valerius Poplicola (cos. $09; 508; 507), C. Lulius (cos. 435;
434) and C. Servilius Axilla (cons. trib. 419; 418; 417), the first instance agreed in our sources appears
to be C. Servilius Ahala (cons. trib. 408 and 407).

The incidence of iteration of office in the first half century of the Republic is not abnormally high,
except that a few individuals succeed in holding three consulships. In the period 509-432 sixty-six
men hold the consulship once, thirteen twice and six three times. This compares with (for example)
the period 277-220 when twenty-five individuals hold the consulship twice, although the value of
such comparisons is limited since the third-century iterations are often prompted by military needs
and whilst the same may have been true in the fifth century, we have insufficient reliable evidence to
explain repeated tenure in that period.

85 Atsea men of Latin extraction could still act, apparently autonomously, in piratical ventures in
the fourth century: cf. Diod. xv1.82.3.

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 207

Table 3. The entry of gentes into office: s09—gor

509 Horatius (8) 498 Cloelius (3) 471 Quinctius (27)
Iunius (1) 497 Minucius (5) 469 Numicius (1)
Lucretius (12) Sempronius (8) _ 461 Volumnius (1)
Tarquinius (1) 495 Claudius (6) 455 Romilius (1)
Valerius (37) Servilius (23) 454 Aternius (1)

506 Herminius (2) 492 Geganius (7) Tarpeius (1)

* Larcius (4) 489 lulius (16) 453 Curiatius (1)
505 Postumius (13) Pinarius (3) Quinctilius (2)
503 Menenius (11) 488 Furius (35) 452 Sestius (1)
502 Cassius (3) Nautius (8) 451 Genucius (5)

Verginius (13) 487 Aquillius (2) 445 Curtius (1)

501 Cominius (2) Sicinius(?)(1) 444 (or 441) Papirius (19)

500 Sulpicius (18) 485 Cornelius (36) 444 Atilius (3)
Tullius (1) Fabius (28) 437 Sergius (11)

499 Aebutius (3) 484 Aemilius (19) 433 Folius (1)
Veturius (10) 480 Manlius (19) 422 Antonius (1)

Note: the table gives the year in which each gens first appears in the chief
magistracy with (in brackets) the total number of such posts (excluding the
Decemvirates) held in the period 509-367. The data are based on the uncorrected
consular fasti since any attempt to remove dubious elements would be highly
contentious.

under the monarchy aristocrats were faced at best with a choice between
rival claimants to the throne, now they had a vested interest in the
maintenance of their own collective power and would naturally close
ranks against any who threatened to destroy it. The rise of the plebs can
only have furthered this sense of common self-interest. Tensions and
imbalance within the aristocracy remained, however. Clans such as the
Cornelii, Fabii, Furii, Quinctii, Servilii and Valerii enjoyed a dispropor-
tionate hold on political office (Table 4). The most striking instance is the
run of seven consecutive Fabian consulships between 485 and 479, which
is perhaps linked to the fall of Sp. Cassius in 486/5 and signals the
potential dangers which such internal rivalry and aristocratic ambition
repeatedly posed. More insidiously, despite the enhanced opportunities
for office-holding which it brought, the era of the consular tribunate
seems to have seen an advance in the hold over the magistracies enjoyed
by the major clans. In contrast, many other families appear rarely in office
and some were probably already threatened with extinction. Their
anxieties may find indirect reflection in the Twelve Tables (p. 233).
Nor could the patriciate ignore the new forces emerging in Roman
society. The creation of the ‘hoplite’ army in or by the sixth century had
established an organization which, whatever its initial size, can hardly
have been manned exclusively by some fifty patrician clans and their

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208 5- ROMEIN THE FIFTH CENTURY It

Table 4. The distribution of office: yo9—445 and 444-367 B.C.

Office-holding gentes: 509-445 B.C.

Valerius 11 Cassius* 3 Cloelius I
Fabius 10 Menenius 3 Curiatius* I
Verginius 10 Nautius 3 Curtius* I
Furius 7 Sulpicius 3 Iunius* I
Servilius 6 Aebutius 2 Numicius* I
Aemilius 5 Cornelius 2 Quinctilius I
Horatius 5 Cominius* 2 Sestius* I
Minucius* 5 Geganius 2 Sicinius(?)* I
Postumius 5 Genucius 2 Romilius* I
Quinctius 5 Herminius* 2 Tarpeius* I
Claudius 4 Manlius 2 Tarquinius* I
lulius 4 Pinarius 2 Tullius* I
Larcius* 4 Sempronius 2 Volumnius* I
Lucretius 4 Aquillius I
Veturius 4 Aternius* 1 Total: 134
Office-holding gentes: 444-367 B.c.

Cornelius 34 Postumius 8 Titinius (p].) 2
Furius 28 Sempronius 6 Trebonius (pl.) 2
Valerius 26 Veturius 6 Aebutius I
Quinctius 22 Geganius 5 Albinius (pl.) I
Papirius 19 Nautius 5 Antistius (pl.) I
Fabius 18 Atilius 3 Antonius I
Manlius 17 Horatius 3 Duillius (pl.) I
Servilius 17 Genucius 3 Aquillius I
Sulpicius 15 Verginius 3 Folius I
Aemilius 14 Claudius 2 Pinarius 1
Iulius 12 Cloelius 2 Pomponius (pl.) 1
Sergius 11 Licinius (pl.) 2 Quinctilius I
Lucretius 8 Maelius (pl.) 2 Sextilius (pl.) I
Menenius 8 Publilius (pl.) 2

Total 316

Note: each table gives the number of consulships or consular tribunates held by each
gens in the period concerned, based on the uncorrected consular fasti (cf. Table 3).
Gentes whose names first appear in or after go1. and which are generally regarded

as non-patrician are marked ‘pl.’; some other genes may also be non-patrician, at
least in part (cf. p. 175; 336). Names asterisked in the first list do not appear in the
second.

adherents. The possibility that the demographic increases of the sev-
enth and sixth centuries and, in particular, Roman territorial expansion
in the sixth century had fostered the enlargement of the independent
peasantry and that common ‘hoplite’ service will gradually have stimu-

8% Fora different view see above, p. 104. For the probable small size of many patrician gentes cf.
Botsford 1907[Gzo], 681-3.

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 209

lated an awareness of their own common interests and identity cannot be
excluded. In the fifth century the members of the ‘hoplite’ c/assis had
probably little active role in political decision-making, but the right of
the army (meeting as a political assembly in rudimentary form) to elect
magistrates and declare war may have been granted early, thus establish-
ing for the future a new timocratic basis to the distribution of political
rights at Rome. Initially that aspect probably played only a very second-
ary role; the military associations of these functions made the army a
natural forum and what was immediately significant was the concession
of these rights to some form of popular assembly. Nonetheless, it must
soon have become apparent that these new-won rights were sharply
gradated according to wealth and then age.

Even so, it would be hasty to assume that those more substantial
peasantry who were not patrician clients necessarily regarded them-
selves, or always acted, as a distinct category within the Roman political
and social order. For alongside the emergence of a hereditary aristocracy
formally monopolizing office and the incipient development of a
timocratic structure no less formally determining effective rights of
political suffrage, there persisted another tradition, that of the citizen
community. Indeed the distinction between citizen and non-citizen was
fundamental to the whole legal and political order. That is evident, for
example, in the continuing gulf in status between citizen and slave even
where in practice they might be subject to similar physical constraints.
Although the restricted scale of slavery may have given it a more familial
character than it often possessed in the later days of mass slavery,®’ the
slave was legally the disposable property of his owner and, so far as we
know, without rights, whereas the Roman citizen who had entered debt-
bondage or been sold to another seems to have retained his public and
other personal rights intact (at least in theory). Similarly, the rule that the
insolvent judgement debtor be sold into slavery ‘across the Tiber’
(Twelve Tables 111.5) must reflect a desire to prevent one Roman citizen
falling into legal servitude to another.%

The basis of citizenship was presumably no different from that in force
later when it went to the legitimate offspring of a Roman male citizen or
(notably) the illegitimate children of a female citizen irrespective of other
qualifications. One version of Twelve Tables 1.4 (‘proletario iam civi’ ‘a
proletarius who is now a citizen’) might imply that the citizen status of the
virtually landless prolefarii was a contemporary innovation, but the
simple ‘proletario civi’ (‘a proletarius citizen’) has better manuscript

87 Their participation in the family cult, for example, is presumably an inheritance from this
period.

88 Some held later, however, that manifest thieves surrendered to their victim became the larter’s
slave (Gai. Inst. 111.189).

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210 5- ROMEIN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

authority and is to be preferred.89 There is, therefore, no good evidence
that citizenship was ever linked to property ownership; birth was the
normal criterion.

Citizenship was not, however, exclusive (cf. p. 261). Whether or not it
was already a formally recognized right, Latins and Romans could
probably change citizenship by a change of cities and certain cities
(including Rome) may have acknowledged the right of their exiles to find
refuge in each other’s community. As in an earlier period, when central
Italian communities appear to have had a corresponding ‘open’ charac-
ter, Rome may also have been receptive to some immigrants from
outside Latium and her repeated absorption of conquered peoples into
her citizen body was rightly seen by Dionysius (Ant. Rom. 11.16.15
XIv.6. 1ff) as a major factor in her later success. Above all, this receptivity
was evident in the grant of citizen status to freedmen, which seems
already by this date to have accompanied the concession of liberty to
these former slaves.% The provisions in the Twelve Tables concerning
the guardianship of, and inheritance from, freedmen betray no sign that
they were of non-citizen status”! and Table v.8 even allegedly envisaged
that a freedman might make a will (presumably a comitial will). If so, they
had certainly achieved citizenship and that principle is in any event best
dated to a period when freedmen were few and usually presumably of
central Italian origin.%

Roman practice here was notoriously different from that of many
Greek states where ex-slaves remained in a position analogous to that of a
resident foreigner (metic). The reason probably lies in differing implica-
tions of citizen status. In the ancient Greek city-states at least this was
commonly regarded in terms of political participation and rights.°3 To
the Roman freedman, still probably regarded as of inferior social status
and as the dependant of his former owner,” citizenship meant above all
certain rights at civil law, most of which Greek states could accord

89 Even here ‘civi’ (‘citizen’) is superfluous and probably a later addition.

% In a confused statement Plutarch (Pwb/. 7.7; cf. also Livy 1.5.10) seems to assert that
manumission conferred citizen status only from 509 or 312 B.C. but little trust can be placed in this (or
in Dionysius’ deduction from Ser. Tullius’ alleged creation of the census (and own servile origins?)
that he first granted freedmen citizen status (Ant. Rom. 1v.22.4)).

1 Ulpian, Tit. 29.1 explicitly understands these rules as applying to freedmen who are citizens (in
contrast presumably to the Augustan categories of non-citizen freedmen).

92 One or both of the procedures used to give slaves their liberty during their patron’s lifetime
implies also the grant of citizen status (Cosentini 1948 & 1950[G187], 1.9—17). For other views on the
date of the concession of citizenship cf. Chantraine 1972{G182], 59-67.

%3 Note, however, Frederiksen 1984[J}48], 196-8 on the more fluid situation which obtained
among the Western Greeks in particular.

* There is no clear evidence, however, for patrons exercising automatic formal powers over their
freedmen: cf. Cosentini 1948 & 1950[G187], 1.69-103; Treggiari 1969[Grso0], 68-75.

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POLITICAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 21!

through quasi-metic status. The principal exception, apart from the right
to beget free citizens, was land ownership but this was not so integrally
linked to full rights of political participation at Rome, at least in origin, as
it was in much of the Greek world.® Indeed, for the citizen body at large,
political rights can have had at most a very restricted scope under the
monarchy and only developed gradually in the early Republic. Nonethe-
less, the concept of the citizen community was central and found
expression in a variety of forms: in the particular character assumed by
social relationships between men of different status (p. 162), in the
absence of a formalized social hierarchy, in the common citizen dress (the
toga), in participation in the religious life of the community (p. 606), in its
defence and perhaps in public works, in common membership (appar-
ently without status distinction) of the cariae and participation in their
common meals and assemblies, in curiate comitial involvement in acts
affecting individual status and property, in the custom of appealing for
aid to the citizen body (p. 220), and above all in common (and, in theory,
almost certainly equal) enjoyment of the rights given by the civil law;
indeed, the ius (‘right’) asserted as the basis of the individual’s claim to
ownership was the ‘right of the citizens’ (ius Quiritium).

Yet even apart from the demands for a greater role in political
decision-making, the patrician seizure of power and its social exclusivity
might seem both anomalous and a threat to that citizen order. Public
supervision of the production and sale of salt or of corn imports in time
of famine may, if authentic, testify to a rudimentary conception of state
concern with the welfare of the whole citizen body, but the forms in
which political power was in practice exercised might readily impinge on
individual citizen rights: the definition, knowledge and administration
of the law lay entirely in the hands of the ruling elite and even for those of
‘hoplite’ status there was little protection against the wide coercive and
other discretionary powers of the magistrate. Indeed, it was the lack of
defined limits to magisterial power that was to make the relationship of
magistrate and private citizen fundamental to the Roman view of the
development of the magistracies and of popular liberty. Later evidence
of such concern is to be seen in the likely development of magisterial veto
powers against a colleague’s judicial or coercive acts as a response to
appeals for assistance by individual citizens. If the fifth-century establish-
ment of a maximum fine (imposed as a coercive penalty) is authentic (cf.
p- 123), italso belongs in this context. Above all, it is principally here that

% The later restriction of freedmen to the four urban tribes (erroneously retrojected into the early
Republic when it can have served no useful function) will have been motivated by the growth in
freedmen numbers and their acquisition of some small political role through the development of the
tribal assemblies. % PL i132 n. 56.

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212 §- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

we must seek the origins of the most remarkable development in Roman
internal history: the political self-assertion of the plebs.

Il. THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT
(a) Introduction

Since the prerogatives and functions of the plebeian tribunes remained a
focus of political controversy and juristic comment to the close of the
Republic, the origin and development of plebeian rights may have been
the subject of a comparatively strong oral tradition, but one continu-
ously modified and elaborated to suit later political or historiographical
preoccupations. The surviving literary narratives must therefore be
rigorously scrutinized in an attempt to distinguish the authentic features
of the emergence of the plebs as a political force. In those narratives two
fifth-century episodes occupy a key role in the assertion of plebeian
prerogatives: the First Secession (494/3) saw the emergence of the plebs
as a political force and the creation of the specifically plebeian officers,
while agitation for the publication of the law culminated in the appoint-
ment of the First and Second Decemvirates, to be followed immediately
by the Second Secession (449), which secured the restoration of the
tribunate with enhanced powers. These two episodes and the reforms
associated with them are here analysed in detail, as a prologue toa general
assessment of the composition and aims of the plebeian movement.

(b) The Furst Secession and the plebeian officers

In the existing narratives” problems of debt, caused by enemy raids, the
burdens of military service and taxation, and, in Sallust and Livy, wanton
patrician severity provoked a military strike by the plebs (494 B.c.), who
withdrew to the Aventine or the Sacred Mount or both successively.
This First Secession was ended by the mediation of Menénius Agrippa
(cos. 503) whose fable comparing the mutual dependence of patriciate
and plebs with that of the parts of the body convinced the people of the
need for reconciliation. Nonetheless, the plebs secured a major conces-
sion: the creation of their own officers (the tribunes) to act as a check on
the consuls by providing assistance (auxilium), in the form of personal
intervention, to individual plebeians threatened with oppressive magis-
terial action. Their appointment and recognition was the subject of a

37 See especially Piso frs. 22~23P; Valerius Antias fr. 17P; Ascon. Corn. p. 76—7Cl; Cic. Rep. 11.57;
Brut. 54; Sall. Ing. 31.17; H.1 fr. 11; Livy 11.23-33; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. vt.23—90; Inser. Ital. xin1.3
nos. 60, 78; Festus 422/4 L; Dio fr. 17 vol. 1, pp. 43-9 Boissevain; Zonar. vur.14f.

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 213

patrician—plebeian agreement (Livy 1.33.1) or even a formal treaty
(Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v1.89.1; cf. v1.66.3f).

The number of tribunes initially appointed was disputed. Piso, Cicero,
Atticus and perhaps Diodorus (p. 217) gave two, a total raised to four
(Diodorus) or five (Piso) in 471 B.c. That is probably the original version
but already in the late second century Sempronius Tuditanus (fr. 4P)
alleged that the first two tribunes had co-opted three colleagues, yielding
a total of five, a figure also found in the sources used by Livy and
Dionysius. This left no scope for an increase in 471 but one significant
change was still (or now) attributed to that year: voting in the plebeian
assembly was henceforth by tribal units.

The tribunician prerogative of providing assistance, guaranteed in
some accounts by the agreement of 493, was reinforced by tribunician
‘sacrosanctity’. One tradition traced this to an oath sworn by the plebs to
protect their officers as inviolate, with a prescription of outlawry against
anyone who assaulted their person. The same conception may lie behind
the ascription of tribunician sacrosanctity toa ‘hallowed law’ (/ex sacrata)
passed at the First Secession. One ancient version derived the term
‘hallowed law’ from the penalty of outlawry (sacer esto) which it con-
tained, while others again referred it specifically to laws sworn by the
plebs at the Secession (Fest. 422L).

Armed with this popular backing, the tribunes rapidly (in the histori-
ans’ view) acquired all the prerogatives associated with the office in the
late Republic. Thus Dionysius carefully charts the usurpation of the right
to hold meetings of the plebs (492), to prosecute patricians before the
people (491), to summon the senate and lay proposals before it (456), to
impose fines on their own authority (455) and to propose plebiscites
binding on the whole populace (449).°8 If the same sense of development
is not explicit in Livy, that is merely a token of his comparative indiffer-
ence to constitutional issues.

Much of the narrative of the First Secession can be swiftly eliminated.
The depiction of Ap. Claudius (cos. 495) as an unremitting opponent of
plebeian demands or of M’. Valerius as the leading advocate of recon-
ciliation merely reflects established literary postures (the Valerii even
claimed that M’. Valeriusas dictator in 494 was responsible for ending the
Secession). Dionysius’ formal treaty can also be disregarded as a mis-
placed legalism characteristic of his history; it was evidently repeated in
the context of the Second Secession (cf. x1.49.3; also Livy 1v.6.7).
The disagreement over the location of the First Secession or the

% Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. vit.i6ff; 35 (esp. 65.1ff); x.31.18; s0.1ff xtgs.1ff.

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214 5- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

number of tribunes originally appointed similarly betrays the process of
reworking to which the episode was subject, as does the controversy
concerning the identity of the first tribunes.29 Even a demonstrably early
element in the narrative of the tribunate’s creation, the fable of
Menenius, is an accretion from Greek literary or philosophical
sources.!00 It appeared in ‘all the old histories’ (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom.
VI.83.2), but though the early political decline of the Menenii may
indicate that Menenius Agrippa’s role as a conciliator was established
early and though the fable itself implicitly upholds and justifies patrician
hegemony, it must be doubtful whether it could have become known at
Rome before the third century.

The date of the Secession is no less precarious. Although the surviving
accounts give it no prominence, the coincidence that the tribunate was
established in the year of the dedication of the temple of Ceres, the
principal religious focus of the plebeian movement, is rendered doubly
suspicious by the parallel with the dedication of the Capitoline temple in
the first year of the Republic (p. 177). The tribunate must belong to the
very early Republic, probably before the Twelve Tables, which presum-
ably resulted from concerted plebeian pressure and may even have
sought to curb tribunician activities. Nonetheless, unless the temple of
Ceres itself has been redated, the precise year of the First Secession may
be the result of later reconstruction.!0!

Superficially at least the surviving accounts of the causes and results of
the Secession also contain a serious incoherence: the Secession originates
in economic distress (debt) but culminates in an essentially political
solution (the tribunate). Later authors!® alleged that the release of
debtors featured among the terms by which the Secession ended, but that
must represent a subsequent attempt to resolve the puzzle. Livy (11.3 3.1;
cf. also Cic. Rep. 11.59) ignores such a solution and may see the tribunate
itself as a remedy for the oppressive treatment of debtors. Is that
plausible?

In their discussions of debt execution in the fifth and fourth centuries
Livy and Dionysius speak mainly of debtors who have been formally
surrendered (addicti) by the magistrate to their creditor and have entered
quasi-servitude as a direct consequence. Aulus Gellius (NA xx.1.19;
39-52; cf. Twelve Tables m1. 1ff) cites the Twelve Tables for the addic-

%® Cf. MRR 1.15f. The records of fifth-century tribunes as a whole are highly suspect, as the
apparent duplication of names in the lists for 470 and 449 illustrates (e.g. Momigliano 193 1[G674],
164-6 (= id. Quarto Contribute 301—-2)). The plebs may have kept some records of their activities but
the tribunes were not eponymous and there was, therefore, no reason to keep a register after the
manner of the consular fast.

100 Nestle 1927[H66], 350~—Go.

101 Fora possible ancient tradition which dated the establishment of the tribunate in the mid-fifth
century see p. 228.

102 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v1.83.4f, 88.3; Dio fr. 17 vol. 1, p. 47 Boiss.; Inser. Ital. x111.3 nos. 60, 78.

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 215

tion of judgement debtors, who would include those in default of debts
incurred by oral contract (s¢ipu/atio),'!© but he mentions no entitlement of
the creditor to retain the addicted debtor as a quasi-slave; rather, at the
end of a prescribed period of enchainment to allow for repayment of the
debt, the insolvent debtor was either to be killed or sold into slavery
‘across the Tiber’. The retention of the debtor as a tied bondsman may
have been gradually permitted and might well often have resulted from
an agreement (pactum) between the parties by which the debtor avoided
the prescribed modes of vengeance, but even so there must be a strong
chance that in their treatment of addiction the annalists’ picture is based
on later procedure, where quasi-servitude could certainly in practice
result from a debt-judgement,!™ and on an assimilation of addiction to
debt-bondage proper.

The history of debt-bondage (nexum) is obscure because it was reput-
edly abolished by a Lex Poetelia of 3 26 or 3 13 B.C. and little knowledge of
it therefore survived into later periods. In Livy 11.27.1 it appears to
require a formal magisterial addiction and nexi enter bondage under
compulsion. This may, however, be again merely a consequence of the
assimilation of the two different procedures, occasioned here by the
desire to involve the consul Ap. Claudius in the oppression of debtors.
Elsewhere Livy (v1i1.28.2; cf. vit.19.5; Val. Max. v1.1.9) and Varro (Ling.
VII.10$) tend to suggest (though they do not prove) that men entered
bondage voluntarily. The form of the transaction, however, is singularly
ill-attested. It is even uncertain whether it was an original loan on the
person or a self-sale resulting in immediate servitude by those unable to
meet a pre-existing debt.!0 The latter might suggest that the institution
arose mainly as a means of avoiding the severe consequences of addiction
but in that case it is difficult to see why its abolition should be regarded as
a major popular advance. It seems more likely that, whatever its legal
form, it was a loan directly on the person of the debtor who was subject to
bondage either immediately or on default after a prescribed period.'1%
Whether the bondsman could work off such a debt is doubtful, for in
talking of his redeeming his debt Varro (loc. cit.) may refer to repayment.
For many the servitude must in practice have been permanent.!0

If debt-bondage was a purely private transaction with no magisterial
involvement, the tribunate is unlikely to have been created specifically
and principally to regulate it since in the mid- and late Republic tribunes

103 For which cf. Gai. Inst, v.74.

14 E.g. Peppe 1981[G283]}, too-1; 188-208. Livy’s apparent belief (vi11.28.8) that the Lex
Poetelia (below) prohibited any enchainment for debt probably rests on a confusion between debt-
bondage and addictio. 105 For modern theories cf. Behrends 1974[G172], 141-50.

106 Naturally it might also then be applied where a pre-existing debt remained unpaid, as the
ancient sources often seem to assume.

107 For further discussion of debt-bondage and its political significance see below, p. 329.

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216 §- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

rarely intervened in the relations between individual citizens. It may have
been different in the early Republic (p. 218), especially in the case of
bondsmen, who were in no position to assert their own rights in court
(cf. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. xvt.5), but given that such intervention was
not later part of the tribunate’s function, it would be bold to assume that
this was its sole initial purpose, for it would then be necessary (and
difficult) to explain why the tribunate abandoned a tradition of interven-
tion that was so central to its original creation. It would probably be
consistent with the office’s later character for the tribunes to intervene in
the addiction of the judgement debtor so far as this was being conducted
oppressively (so Livy v1.27.8ff), but in such cases the law made provision
for the intervention of a champion (vindex) and it again seems improbable
that a permanent office should be established purely to deal with cases
where condemnation appeared unjustified and no vindex was
forthcoming.

This is not to deny that economic discontent may well have been a
significant factor in mobilizing support against the ruling patriciate!® or
that the tribunate may have been intended from the outset to act as a
vehicle for reform. Indeed, the importance of economic grievances in the
First Secession was probably an early element in the historical tradition
since it seems implicit in Menenius’ fable: the patriciate is Rome’s
stomach, enjoying (by implication) the profits of others’ labours. How-
ever, the failure of Livy and Dionysius to cite debt as a source of major
discontent again until the fourth century suggests that the exclusive
centrality of its role in the agitation of 494/3 may be an artificial
construction, perhaps based on the Secession of 287/6 (p. 400) where
debt does seem to have been a determinant factor and where the political
outcome (recognition of the universal validity of plebeian decrees) did
have a direct potential relevance to its remedy. Certainly their allegations
that military service and taxation were among its principal causes cannot
be sustained. In this period personal taxation did not exist and although
campaigns might sometimes have interfered with the harvest, they were
in general short and close to home.

What remains of the literary tradition for the First Secession is
therefore meagre: a military strike in the early fifth century which
resulted in the creation of the tribunate, with economic distress as a
significant but not necessarily decisive factor. Even this minimum has
been questioned! on the supposition that both the First and Second
Secession are entirely modelled on that of 287/6 B.c. The similarities are
not, however, sufficient to prove duplication on that scale and there was

108 For possible evidence of difficulties over grain supplies in the early fifth century cf. above,
Pp. 133f with n. 62. 109 E.g. Beloch 1926[A1z], 283.

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 217

every reason for the plebs in the third century to employ again a tactic
which had previously proved effective. What is crucial here is the
character of the tribunate itself. As an office designed to represent
plebeian interests against the state magistrates in particular it must result
from a major act of self-assertion by a substantial element outside the
ruling aristocracy. In that context the First Secession is entirely credible;
it provides a plausible mechanism by which the plebs sought to secure
acceptance of its right to organize in this way and its particular form (a
military strike) coheres with the probable original purpose of the
tribunate itself.

The initial functions and development of the tribunate must be largely
conjectured from its later character and history. The derivation of the
name ‘tribunus’ from ‘tribus’ (‘tribe’) has been taken to indicate that the
tribunes were initially linked to the four urban tribes.'!° There is,
however, no good evidence that the tribunes originally numbered four:
Diodorus’ account of the election of four plebeian tribunes in 471
(x1.68.8) probably refers not to the office’s foundation but to its later
enlargement, as his own language and the parallel with Piso (p. 213)
suggest.'!! So far as is known, the tribunes never acted as representatives
of individual areas of the city and the early breaking of the association at
the increase in the tribunate to ten would require detailed explanation.
The title of the office may be explained by the plebeian use of the tribes as
the basis of their assembly. Admittedly, this form of assembly is sup-
posed to have been introduced only later, by the tribune Publilius in 471
B.c., but the ancient belief that a different electoral forum (a curiate
assembly) was originally used is itself irreconcilable with an association
between the early tribunes and the urban tribes and may, in any case, bea
fiction suggested by the alleged Publilian law of 339 giving general
validity to the decisions of the plebeian tribal assembly. The uncertainties
surrounding the date of the tribes themselves (p. 245f) further compli-
cate the issue, but the possibility that they were used as the basis of the
plebeian assembly from the outset cannot be excluded. Alternatively, the
title ¢ribunus may have been modelled on the military tribunes, who had
probably long ceased to act as the commanders of tribal infantry contin-
gents. That again would accord with the character of the Secession as a
military strike.

The tribunate’s later character indicates that the provision of assis-
tance to the individual citizen against action by the magistrates was
amongst its most fundamental and probably therefore earliest features.

180 Ed. Meyer 1895{H57], 1-18 = 1924, 1.333-55-

"M1 Urban 1973[H97], 761-4. If so, Diodorus presumably recorded the tribunate’s foundation in
his now lost account of the period before 486 B.c.

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218 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

Tribunician inviolability must have served precisely to protect the
tribune’s person when he intervened in this way and the requirements
that he could not spend a night or an entire day away from the city and
that his door must always be open clearly reflect the importance of this
aspect of his duties. The later technical term for vetoing a magisterial act
(intercessio) derives from the physical act of ‘stepping between’
(intercedere) the two parties concerned and the tribunes’ later wider veto
powers (e.g. of legislation), for which a term such as ‘prevent’ or
‘prohibit’ (prohibere or interdicere) would be more appropriate, are there-
fore secondary to, and probably developed from, this original interven-
tion on behalf of the individual. Indeed, the extension of tribunician
prerogatives will often have been secured through the tribunes’ powers
of obstruction, particularly at the levy, a tactic prominent in the
annalistic accounts of the early Republic. This lever was not so employed
from the mid-third century and may, therefore, derive from authentic
memory, at least for the fourth century and very early third.

Such tribunician assistance was probably, as later, used particularly in
relation to the magistrate’s role in civil jurisdiction and the levy since it
was here that the magistrate most commonly confronted the individual
citizen. In its early days, however, the tribunate presumably intervened
wherever plebeian sentiment demanded protection. Thus the tribunes
will certainly have attempted to intervene in other instances of summary
coercion by the magistrate, particularly where this was directed against
plebeian agitation, and even their normal confinement to the city and
exclusion from the military sphere may be later developments. They may
also on occasion have sought to check oppression by private individuals
(cf. Zonar. vit.15), although throughout its history the tribunate never
actively broke with the principle that the private individual was primar-
ily responsible for the pursuit of personal wrongs. Throughout the
Republic the tribunes seem neither to have claimed nor exercised any
positive powers of civil or criminal jurisdiction against individuals
acting in a private capacity (cf. Gell. NA xut.12.9) and the later
development of the office is confined almost exclusively to the public
sphere.

Since the office was clearly intended as a check on the consuls, it may
well have initially numbered two, but we have no means of controlling
either this or the varying traditions of subsequent increases to a total of
ten in 457 (Livy 111.30.7; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. x.30.6), perhaps 449
(Diod. xu1.25.2) or even 493 (cf. Livy 11.44.6; Val. Max. v1.3.2).!!2 The
physical nature of early tribunician intervention clearly made a rapid
increase in numbers desirable and reflects its usurpative nature. Hence

"2 Cf. also Zonar. vit.15; 17; Stuart Jones 1928(A128], 433.

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 219

provision for the continuity of the office must also have been a high
priority. Some echo of this may be found in the requirement (Diod.
XII.25.3 (449 B.C.); Val. Max. v1.3.2 (486 B.c.)) that tribunes ensure the
election of successors or be burned to death,!!3 but in Valerius Maximus
this appears to be an aetiological explanation of the monument com-
memorating the ‘nine cremated’ (p. 13) and so may be later speculation.
The possibility that a full complement of tribunes could not be found
appears in an alleged ban on co-option, dubiously attributed to a
Trebonian plebiscite of 448 (or 401 B.c.) but without parallel in the state
offices. Clearly the tribunate in its early days was precarious and, despite
the historians, recognition of its rights must have been slow and bitterly
contested. Hence popular support was essential and the tradition that the
inviolate status of the tribunes was secured by a general plebeian oath is
highly plausible;!!4 ultimately the tribunate rested on a general principle
of plebeian self-help.

It is a credible corollary of this development that the individual who
was subject to magisterial abuse should often couple an appeal to the
people with that to the tribunes. Given their importance in social life
(cf. p. 157), such appeals probably already had a long history and might,
through sheer pressure of public disapprobation, if not the latent threat
of violence, force the magistrate into concessions. In Livy (e.g. 11.5 5.5—7)
this appeal for popular protection is sometimes used as a reinforcement
of the right of ‘appeal to the people’ ( provocatio ad populum), which is often
associated with tribunician assistance as one of the twin pillars of popular
liberty. ‘Appeal to the people’ appears later to have been conceived as an
appeal not for aid'!5 but to a judgement of the people, meeting on
occasion at least in formal assembly, to uphold, modify or reject the
penalty inflicted by an official on an individual citizen. According to our
sources such a right of appeal had been formally guaranteed against
execution or scourging by a Lex Valeria of 509 B.c.!!6 This was rein-
forced by a Lex Valeria Horatia (or Duillian plebiscite) of 449 prohibit-
ing the appointment of magistrates not subject to appeal and its

113 Cf. also Dio fr. 22 vol. 1, p. 61 Boiss.; Zonar vi1.17.

14 The oath of obedience to their commanders and of willingness to fight to the death which was
sworn by the Samnite ‘linen-clad corps’ (Livy x.38.5ff; cf. p. 292) is sometimes adduced as a parallel
(Altheim 1940[Hs]), but the circumstances, purposes and consequences of such military oaths (as of
the ‘hallowed laws’ by which Italic military forces were sometimes assembled) were entirely
different.

"S Contra, Lintott 1972(H48], 229f. But in Livy 11.55.s—7 the appeal for popular assistance
follows the consuls’ refusal to heed an ‘appeal to the people’ and may, therefore, be separate. The
episode, which contains clear anachronisms (Ogilvie 1965{B129}, 375), is comparable to, and may be
based on, later incidents (Lintott loc.cit. 231) where individuals seek implementation of their citizen
tights by rallying popular support. Livy 111.56.5ff may be explained similarly.

"6 According to Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v.19.4 and Plut. Pxb/. 11 magisterial fines were also
covered.

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220 j. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

provisions were repeated by a Lex Valeria of 300. Only the last of these
can be authentic. Valerius’ consulship in 509 is itself almost certainly
spurious!!” and having established the new republican magistracy with
implicitly extensive coercive powers the aristocracy is not likely to have
imposed a major restriction on their exercise forthwith. Moreover, the
existence of such a law makes the early concern of the tribunes with
oppressive magisterial action less easy to explain. The law is a clear
duplication of that of 300; it reflects both later Valerian populist ambi-
tions and a general tendency to attribute key elements of popular
freedom to the first year of the Republic. If it is fiction, so also must be the
statute(s) of 449, and in any case our sources suppose that magistrates not
subject to provocatio continued to be appointed in the person of dictators.

These two fictitious measures and the Lex Valeria of 300 probably
concern primarily appeals against the coercive actions and penalties of
the magistrates, but when Cicero claims (Rep. 11.54) that the Twelve
Tables contained several provisions making appeal permissible from
every penalty and judgement, he may envisage its application also to
regular judicial decisions. Even if, however, he refers only to the
coercive penalties imposed by a magistrate and magistrates were not
obliged to heed the appeal (an issue Cicero does not elucidate), the
potential range of appeal involved here is much more extensive than that
covered by later legislation. Unless we are here to recognize a major
potential encroachment of popular sanction into the sphere of magiste-
rial enactment which is otherwise unattested and remained largely
unfulfilled, Cicero’s information must be rejected as at best a misunder-
standing (perhaps under the influence of Solon’s example) of the restric-
tion of capital penalties to the centuriate assembly and/or other
provisions now lost. Whether, as was assumed in the first century, the
decisions of the duoviri ( perduellionis) were appellable in this way must also
remain dubious, although some involvement of the assembly in cases of
treason at least would not be surprising.

Even if, however, our sources have grossly exaggerated the formal
rights of appeal in the early Republic, it remains entirely plausible that
informal appeals were made for protection against oppressive magiste-
rial action, as part of the traditions of citizen assistance. To judge by later
evidence it was explicitly to one’s fellow-citizens (Quirites) that the
appeal was made, often perhaps with the implication that citizen rights
were under threat, and it may have been precisely the need to give these
appeals some more formal and effective means of expression that
prompted the creation of the tribunate itself, perhaps on the basis of the
emergence of individual spokesmen for the popular mood on such

"7 E.g. Ranouil 1975{H74], 71-2; cf. above, p. 173f.

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 221

occasions. Faced with such popular hostility the magistrate might press
on with his action, if he could enforce his will, or give way entirely.
Alternatively, he might seek to determine the true strength of popular
feeling by summoning an assembly and proposing a formal motion for
the punishment of the accused. Hence what had originated as an appeal
for popular assistance becomes transformed into an appeal to the popular
judgement and the conjecture that provocatio ad populum in its later
conception developed from, and initially depended on, such informal
requests for aid!!8 is entirely plausible. In practice, however, even after
the right of appeal was sanctioned by law, it seems seldom, if ever, to
have been implemented. The explanation is probably that where the
magistrate refused to yield entirely but yet felt obliged to heed popular
opinion, he ‘saved face’ by simply modifying the penalty involved. That
may well in fact have been the permanent consequence of the Lex Valeria
of 300 B.c. According to the received text of Livy, Per. xrv M’. Curius in
275 was the first to order the sale of the property of a defaulter at the levy
(and perhaps of the man himself: cf. Varro ap. Non. p. 28L; Val. Max.
v1.3.4);!!9 execution or scourging were now in effect prohibited penalties
but an almost equally severe substitute was provided.

As has been seen, popular support was not only a vehicle of redress in
its own right but also essential to the effectiveness of tribunician inter-
vention. The tribunes may, as was later believed (cf. e.g. Dion. Hal. Ant.
Rom. x.31.3), have claimed that where that intervention was disregarded
or the tribune’s person otherwise violated, the individual concerned was
liable to be executed without trial, although it is characteristic of the
concern of the Gracchan age with tribunician prerogatives that the first
known historical attempt to enforce such a right is that of the tribune C.
Atinius in 131 B.c. (Livy, Per. tx; Pliny, HN vit.143). More commonly
in the later period the tribune might of his own initiative ‘consecrate the
property’ of (usually) a magistrate. That also presumably reflects an
ancient practice (cf. Cic. Dom. 123)!20 but no examples of this or of lynch
justice are recorded from the early Republic. That may merely reflect the
inadequacy of our sources and forcible action of this kind may well have
been attempted, but it must often have been difficult to implement. In
that event the tribunes’ only recourse was to turn to the plebeian
assembly to secure a formal declaration that their sacrosanctity had been
violated and that the offending magistrate was in their eyes an outlaw and

18 Lintott 1972(H48], 226-67; cf. Staveley 1954-s{Hgo], 412-28.

119 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. vit1.81.3 (cf. x.33-3) attributes sale of the defaulter’s property and
seizure of his person to the early fifth century, but this may be in part or whole an anachronistic
anticipation of later practice.

120 So perhaps may the imprecations of C. Ateius Capito on the departing Crassus in 55 B.c.; cf.
p. 621.

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222 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY ITI

his property should be confiscated. It was perhaps such capital proposals
which the Twelve Tables sought to prohibit (p. 201).

Such decrees of the plebeian assembly may lie at the root of the later
tribunician right to prosecute former public officials before the people
for misconduct in office. The annalists suppose that such a prerogative
was already widely exercised in the fifth century in a series of comitial
trials, principally against ex-magistrates for military failure. These can-
not be historical. They are suspiciously concentrated in the fifth century
in contrast to the fourth. Some (such as that of Coriolanus) are manifestly
spurious. The fines in which they often result are anachronistic in scale,
and for capital trials patrician magistrates would not have allowed any
tribune the access to the centuriate assembly which, according to Cicero,
the Twelve Tables had made necessary. Nor can the tribunate have
acquired such extensive powers or so general a function in this period.

The tribunes’ dependence on popular support implies also that the
plebs must have been essentially self-regulating. The right to organize in
this way may have been secured by the Secession but so far as the
plebeians were able to determine their own affairs, they presumably did
so without reference to any external approval. Dionysius’ assumption
that senatorial sanction was required for such decisions before 471 B.C. is
merely a consequence of his erroneous belief that hitherto the plebs had
met in the full patricio-plebeian curiate assembly (see Amt. Rom. 1x.41.3f)
and that a preliminary senatorial decree was necessary for any measure
passed by that body to become binding (p. 185 n. 39).

It is another matter whether many of the recorded fifth-century
plebiscites which sought to regulate and protect the plebeian movement
are in fact historical. Dionysius (Amt. Rom. vi1.17.5) can cite a plebiscite
of 492 protecting a tribune from interruption at a public meeting, Livy
(11.64.10) a clearly fictitious formula for the tribunician elections before
448 B.c., Festus (424 L) a ‘first law concerning the tribunate’, but the
authenticity of all such documents is at best unproven. Similarly, though
the plebs probably made comparatively free use of formal decisions,
much need not have been the subject of specific enactment. That, for
example, the exclusion of patricians from the tribunate required a
‘hallowed law’ (Cic. Prov. Cons. 46; Sest. 16) or a patricio-plebeian
agreement (Livy 11.33.1) must be extremely doubtful. Although the
annalists have sensed correctly the precarious character of the early
plebeian. movement, no doubt on the basis of later experience and
political argument,!2! they have again fallen prey to the recurrent tempta-
tion to regularize constitutional innovation, and in particular the plebe-
ian movement, by attributing to it a formally unexceptionable basis.!22

121 Clodius’ attempt to have the tribunate opened to patricians (Dio xxxvit.51.1 (60 B.C.)) no
doubt revived interest in the issue.
12 For further instances cf. Stuart Jones 1928[A128], 454, 460.

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 223

It was not only on matters internal to the plebs that tribunes will have
sought expression of their sentiments. The office must early have acted as
a focus of agitation for reform and plebiscites were an obvious and
necessary means both of ensuring support and impressing the ruling elite
with the strength of popular feeling. First-century writers, particularly
Cicero, apparently assume that all early plebiscites were ‘hallowed laws’
(leges sacratae), involving probably a penalty of outlawry and perhaps a
plebeian oath, and it is possible that this procedure was adopted as a
means of exerting pressure where the plebeian demand could be imple-
mented unilaterally. It might, for example, have been so used in the
attempt to open up the Aventine for settlement in 456 B.c. (cf. Livy
111.32.7), although Dionysius claims (Ant. Rom. x.32.4) that the relevant
measure, subsequently set up on a bronze tablet in the temple of Diana,
had been formally passed by the centuriate assembly. Certainly where
active patrician co-operation was required, a unilateral ‘hallowed law’
alone is hardly likely to have been sufficient.

Initially plebiscites can only have been expressions of plebeian opin-
ion. According to the annalists their general validity was recognized by a
Lex Valeria Horatia of 449 B.c. but this clearly duplicates a similar
Publilian law of 339 and Hortensian law of ¢. 286 B.c. The fiction was no
doubt designed to explain the validity of certain later plebiscites, espe-
cially the Canuleian law (445), the Licinio-Sextian laws (367) and the
Genucian laws (342). So far as these are authentic, however, their
implementation may have been a matter of de facto acceptance, consular
action or subsequent approval by the centuriate assembly: the history of
the plebeian struggles and of the difficulty in implementing their de-
mands, even in the annalists, is hardly intelligible on the assumption of an
early general recognition of plebeian enactments. It has been supposed!23
that the Lex Valeria Horatia made such plebiscites binding if they
received the approval of the patrician senators ( patrum auctoritas) or some
other form of senatorial sanction. There is, however, no clear evidence
for such a provision or for its removal by the Lex Publilia or Lex
Hortensia. It would in any case be a meaningless concession (since with
or without it the plebs would still be dependent on patrician acceptance
of their demands if these were to be formally enacted). The securely
attested legislative successes of the tribunes in the fifth century are in‘any
event negligible: at most they comprise the bill of Icilius on the Aventine
traditionally dated to 456 B.c. (and therefore before the Lex Valeria
Horatia) and that of Canuleius on patrician—plebeian intermarriage (445
B.C.).

That the tribunes, holding a usurpative office with restricted and
contested functions, were admitted to the senate in the fifth century is

'3 E.g. Staveley 1955(G723], 12-23; cf. below, p. 342.

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224 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

clearly not to be credited, despite the historians’ implication that they
were regularly present at senatorial debates; indeed, Valerius Maximus
(11.2.7) and Zonaras (v11.15) report that they originally took up their
station outside the senate. Similarly, their right to summon the senate or
refer matters to it can have developed only when plebiscites achieved
automatic general validity, probably by the Lex Hortensia: then it would
have become essential if the senate were to discuss tribunician proposals
before their presentation to the assembly.

Zonaras and Valerius Maximus indicate that the tribunes’ original
interest in the senate was purely negative, to prevent the implementation
of any decree of which they disapproved. This must be set in the wider
context of tribunician rights to veto magisterial legislative proposals,
elections and other acts. These powers probably grew out of, or were
considered analogous to, the older right of assistance (p. 218), but
although there may have been early attempts to disrupt public business
or declare particular actions or decisions unacceptable, these cannot yet
have rested on a formally recognized right of veto. Indeed, some of the
veto rights directed specifically at magisterial initiative may have
achieved ultimate acceptance less in the popular interest than in that of
the senatorial majority which could thus check recalcitrant magistrates.
Their recognition was probably a gradual process but cannot have
become definitive before the mid-Republic as the tribunate came to
achieve a more generally recognized role in the Roman pattern of
government.

The right of a tribune to veto the proposals or positive actions of a
colleague is also not likely to have been original to the office (cf. Diod.
XII.25.3) since it would have frustrated its basic purposes. Tribunician
veto of a colleague’s plebiscite will have arisen only when these became
automatically binding on the whole community, that of their senatorial
decrees only when they had secured the privilege of proposing them.
Veto of popular trials is also improbable when these merely represent
tribunician attempts to seek backing for intended retribution on those
who had violated their persons. Still less can it be believed that tribunes
would intervene to prevent their colleagues from taking action against
magistrates seen to be acting oppressively.

The tribunate originated, therefore, in a determined act of self-
assertion by the plebs. Its initial function was probably that of interven-
ing on behalf of the individual citizen against oppressive or irregular
magisterial action, particularly at the levy and in civil jurisdiction. For
this purpose the office had to be permanent and provision made for
annual elections and for the necessary organization of the plebs itself
(soon, if not from the first, on a tribal basis). The success of the tribunes
relied essentially, however, on mass popular support, which found

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 225

expression in tribunician inviolability, perhaps in attempts to reinforce
that inviolability by penalties voted against those who infringed it, and in
the parallel development of appeal to the people. The tribunate must
have early become a mouthpiece for plebeian demands but its other
prerogatives, those of capital prosecution before the centuriate assembly,
of proposing plebiscites of general validity, of summoning the senate and
seeking its advice, of vetoing the acts of state magistrates or a colleague
were established only at a much later date. In this period it was a
usurpative and precarious office restricted in scope.

Two further plebeian officers, the plebeian aediles, were also reputedly
created at the First Secession. That is perhaps an anticipation, but the
office was evidently well established by 366 s.c. when two additional
curule aediles (initially patrician) were instituted as state officials in
imitation. It is possible that the office was borrowed from elsewhere in
Central Italy, where it occasionally appears later;!24 but there is no
certainty that in most of these instances the title at least does not derive
ultimately from Rome, and since the functions of the municipal
aediles may themselves have undergone progressive modification (at
Tusculum, for example, the dual aedileship became at some stage the
local chief magistracy), they offer little guidance to the original scope of
the Roman office. The various ancient suggestions concerning its initial
functions!25 are also of little assistance since they largely reflect either
particular later aspects of its responsibilities or deductions from its title;
in themselves they are of little independent value. The historians’ treat-
ment of the aediles in the early Republic is no less unreliable, particularly
in their implicit assumption that they acted as an organ of the Roman
state, a role they can have acquired only from 366 B.c. at the earliest. It is
difficult to accept, for example, that already in 449 the aediles were
officially charged with preserving senatorial decrees or that the state
commissioned them to remove foreign cults in 428. The supervision of
public games clearly belongs after 366 and their role in the corn-supply is
also probably a later development from their control of markets. The
aediles’ general policing and supervision of the roads, temples and other
public buildings must also be a subsequent accretion; the plebs would
hardly appoint their own officials for that specific purpose.

The title aedilis (from aedes ‘house’ or ‘temple’) is the best evidence for
their original function. It suggests that the aediles acted as guardians of
plebeian interests in the precinct of the (public) temple of Ceres, Liber

14 E.g. Momigliano 1932[G674], 217-28 (= id. Quarto Contributo 313-23); Mazzarino
1945[F47], 127-52.

125 Varro, Ling. v.81; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. vi.go.1f; Fest. 12 L; Pomp. Dig. 1.2.2.21; Theophil.
Inst. 1.2; Lydus, Mag. 1.35; Zonar. vit.ry.

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226 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

and Libera which had intimate associations with the plebeian movement.
The existence of an early plebeian archive there seems unlikely since it
presupposes a highly developed sense of the plebs as a permanent
organized institution, but dedications were made in the shrine to Ceres,
not least from the property of those who violated tribunician rights; and
there may also have been a market, associated perhaps with plebeian
meetings. The supervision of such a market is the most plausible
starting-point for the development of the aediles’ subsequent functions
and can be illustrated by Greek parallels.!26 Whether, as Dionysius (Ant.
Rom. vi.90.2) supposes, the aediles also acted as general tribunician
assistants (a role which they did not usually assume later) must remain an
open question, although their subordination to the tribunate is evident in
tribunician supervision of their election.

Dionysius (loc. cit.) further states that the tribunes referred certain
judicial cases to the aediles who were also known as ‘judges’, and under
454 an aedile is credited with a comitial prosecution of an ex-consul for
military misconduct (Livy 111.31.5f) or offences against the plebs (Dion.
Hal. Ant. Rom. x.48.3f). Both suppositions are to be rejected: the
tribunes never exercised jurisdiction in the historical period of the
Republic and the recorded fifth-century comitial trials are fictitious.
Dionysius or his source may have been misled by the later comitial
prosecutions by the aediles for a variety of offences against the common
interest and by the tribunician practice of hearing appeals for their
assistance in quasi-judicial form. The same practice has probably also
influenced the claim in Zonaras (v11.15) that the tribunes either heard
cases of violation of their sacrosanctity themselves or referred them to
‘certain judges’ or to the people.

Zonaras (and perhaps Dionysius) may also be reflecting interpreta-
tions of the term ‘judges’ or ‘board of ten judges’ (sudices decemviri)
recorded ambiguously alongside the aediles and tribunes in an alleged
law of 449 B.c. (‘whoever harms the plebeian tribunes, aediles, judges
board of ten, his person shall be consecrate to Iuppiter’ (Livy 111.55.7)).
The identity of these ‘judges’ was and is disputed. Modern interpretation
has centred around their possible identification with the later ‘board of
ten for the judging of lawsuits’ (decemviri stlitibus iudicandis) who were
responsible for hearing claims to free status and perhaps other matters,
but Pomponius (Dig. 1.2.2.29) implies that these were established after
242 B.c. and although the pairing of iudices decemviri in this order is
possible,'27 the terms could equally well refer not to a unit (‘board of ten
judges’) but to two separate offices (‘judges’ and ‘board of ten’). If so,

126 Latte 1936[G639], 74f = id. Kleine Schriften 356.

'27 Thus in a few cases of municipal titulature the more general title precedes the qualifying
numerical term (¢.g., praefores duoviri ‘practors board of two’); the earliest preserved examples derive
from Sullan colonies (ILLRP 606, 6735).

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 227

however, their further identification remains mysterious. Dionysius or
his source may have thought that ‘judges’ here qualified ‘aediles’,
Zonaras’ source that they were distinct officials appointed to hear cases
of the violation of tribunician sacrosanctity. Others apparently identified
the ‘iudices’ as the consuls (Livy 111.5 5.11f); but if that was the original
reference, the law must be spurious since it would thus confer inviolate
status on the state magistracies as well as the officers of the plebs. For that
we have no supporting evidence and consuls already had extensive
powers to deal severely with citizens who infringed their authority and
persons.

For both Livy (111.9—64) and Dionysius (Ant. Rom. x.1—x1.50) the history
of the Decemvirate commences with the proposal of the tribune C.
Terentilius Harsa in 462 B.c. that a commission be created either to
publish the laws and legal principles (Dionysius) or to draw up legisla-
tion restricting the power of the consuls (Livy). After years of fruitless
wrangling a compromise was reached in 454: a three-man legation was
despatched to Athens and other Greek cities to bring back the laws of
Solon and others, in preparation for the appointment (in 452) of a ten-
man legislative board. That board, exclusively patrician and not subject
to popular appeal ( provocatio), replaced both consuls and tribunes in 451
B.c. Its conduct of affairs was exemplary. Ten Tables of laws were
drafted, subjected to popular scrutiny, approved by the centuriate assem-
bly and eventually set up publicly in the Forum.

A second Decemviral board was elected for the following year (450
B.C.), entirely patrician (Livy) or including three plebeians (Dionysius).
Led by the ambitious Ap. Claudius, this Second Decemvirate added two
further Tables (including the notorious ban on patricio-plebeian inter-
marriage) but also abused its unrestricted powers to assume arbitrary
control of the state and prolong its term of office indefinitely, without
reference to senate or people. Attacks by the Sabines and Aequi eventu-
ally forced consultation of the senate, where M. Horatius and L. Valerius
vigorously opposed the decemviral regime; but it was the armies levied
to meet the emergency that brought about their overthrow. That en-
camped near Crustumerium was early alienated by the murder of a
legendary military hero L. Siccius Dentatus, and both forces revolted
when Appius Claudius attempted to get control of a plebeian girl
Verginia through a client (M. Claudius) who claimed her as his slave. L.
Verginius killed his daughter to protect her chastity and appealed
successfully to both armies and to the urban populace to rise against their
oppressors.

The resulting Second Secession drove the senate to an agreement,

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228 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

negotiated by Valerius and Horatius, whereby the Decemvirs resigned.
Major legislation followed, more fully reported in Livy than in
Dionysius (whose account is in any case partly lost). One of the newly
elected tribunes, M. Duillius, passed plebiscites re-establishing the con-
sulship, ensuring the continuity of the tribunate and prohibiting the
future appointment of magistrates not subject to appeal. The new
consuls, Valerius and Horatius, passed measures guaranteeing the invio-
lability of the plebeian officers, prohibiting the appointment of magis-
trates exempt from appeal and making plebiscites binding on the whole
community; in addition, senatorial decrees were now to be preserved by
the plebeian aediles in the temple of Ceres. Finally, in 448 L. Trebonius
carried a plebiscite ensuring the election ofa full complement of tribunes.

Although the conception of the Decemvirate as a major political
turning-point was established as early as Polybius,!28 the version of the
reforms found in Livy and Dionysius was not universally accepted. In
Diodorus (x11.24—6) they comprise the appointment of ten tribunes with
the highest powers as guardians of freedom, the reservation of one
consulship and the opening of the other to plebeians, the obligation on
the tribunes to arrange the election of successors on pain of being burned
alive and (probably) the institution of the tribunes’ right of mutual veto.
Moreover, all this is the result of a patrician—plebeian agreement, not
legislation; in Diodorus Valerius and Horatius merely compile the two
additional Tables and place all twelve on display. Zonaras (v11.18f) also
ignores the Valerio-Horatian laws (perhaps through over-compression
of his source (Dio)), attributing instead to their consulship the change of
title from praetor to consul and the grant to the tribunes of auspicial
rights (probably that of hindering a magistrate or colleague by declaring
an unfavourable omen (obnuntiatio)).

Finally, and most radically, some may have ascribed the creation of the
tribunate itself to 449. Varro (Ling. v.81) attributes the origin of the title
‘tribunes of the plebs’ to their initial appointment from among the
military tribunés ‘in the secession of Crustumerium’. Crustumerium
appears in the surviving accounts only in the Second Secession and it is
notable that in the description of that episode in Livy and Dionysius both
mutinous armies appoint ten military ¢rébuni as their leaders, clearly as a
prelude to the re-election of plebeian ¢ribuni (cf. Livy 1.51.8). Unless,
therefore, Varro or his source knew of a similar but now lost version of
the First Secession (or was merely confused), the tradition on which he
drew evidently associated the establishment of the tribunate with the
revolt of 449.

12% Polyb. vi.11.1 with Walbank 1957—79[B182] ad loc.

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 229

The relative antiquity of these different versions is difficult to determine.
Even their deep-seated belief in the constitutional importance of the
Decemviral period may merely reflect a tendency to attach undated
developments toa known major event, especially since there is a substan-
tial lack of agreement about the measures involved and those measures
themselves are often suspect in their individual content. Thus the
admission of plebeians to the consulship (Diodorus) occurred only in 366
B.C. The provision for the perpetual election of tribunes (Diodorus and
Livy) seems elsewhere presupposed already for the time of Sp. Cassius
(Val. Max. v1.3.2). Even if that merits no greater trust (p. 219), the date
was apparently not firmly established. Its location here is intimately
linked with the suspension of the tribunate during the Decemvirate but it
is difficult to see why the institution of such a legislative commission
should have placed the tribunate in abeyance. That notion may be related
to an early view of the Decemvirate as a mixed commission replacing
both patrician and plebeian offices (cf. Livy 11. 31.7f; Dion. Hal. Ant.
Rom. x.58.4), to an attempt to explain why its tyrannical behaviour went
initially uncontested or even to efforts to accommodate a tradition that
the tribunate itself was created after the Decemvirate’s overthrow.
Similarly, the election of ten tribunes (Diodorus) is dated by other
sources to 457 Of even 493 B.C. (p. 218), while mutual veto (Diodorus) or
obnuntiatio (Zonaras) can scarcely have been established so early. The
Trebonian plebiscite of 448 prohibiting the co-option of tribunes (Livy)
seems in another version to have been dated to qo1 (cf. Livy v.10.1ff).
The Duillian plebiscite and Valerio-Horatian law on appeal (Livy) are
duplicates and neither is authentic (p. 219f). The Lex Valeria Horatia on
plebiscites (Livy and Dionysius) is equally fictitious (p. 223). The
Valerio-Horatian bill recognizing the inviolate status of plebeian officers
in part duplicates the annalists’ patrician—plebeian agreement of 493 B.C.,
as Livy (111.5 5.6) realizes; and his account implies that even ancient critics
found some difficulty in reconciling the law with the accepted basis of
tribunician sacrosanctity in the plebeian oath of 493.!2° Conceivably the
plebs, angered by restrictions placed on their representatives by the
Twelve Tables (p. 201f), sought to secure formal recognition of their
status, and the law’s inclusion of the otherwise unknown indices decemviri
(p. 226) among the plebeian officers may also support its authenticity,
but its appearance among 4 series of fictitious measures reinforcing the
tribunate makes its historicity or at least its date highly suspect.!30

129 If one version attributed the actual creation of the tribunate to 449 B.C., the law may well
derive from there.
130 For a more favourable assessment of the alleged measures of 449 B.c. cf., ¢.g., Ogilvie

1965[B129], 497-s01.

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230 5. ROMEIN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

Analysis of the Second Secession also reveals much that merits rejec-
tion. The Second Decemvirate itself may be fictitious (p. 114f). The two
armies seem to belong to duplicate accounts and there were also varying
versions of the negotiations which ended the Secession. Verginia, origin-
ally anonymous (her name was inspired by the Latin virgo “maid’),
probably belongs to the oldest stratum of the legend but as the late
annalists half-realized, she is merely a pale imitation of that Lucretia
whose rape provoked the overthrow of the monarchy, and her potential
violator was conjured from the established literary portraits of the
Claudii.

This entire narrative, therefore, yields little worthy of serious consid-
etation: at most perhaps a Secession intended to reassert the role of the
tribunate in the face of attempts in the Twelve Tables to restrict its
activity, and recognition or reaffirmation of its right to fulfil its basic
function. Even this may have begun life merely as a variant version of the
creation of the tribunate itself or as a superfluous attempt to explain the
abolition of the Decemvirate but it is not per se implausible.

The ancient sources offer varying interpretations of the plebeian agita-
tion for the publication of the law and the creation of the Decemvirate.
Thus for Cicero (Rep. 11.61ff) the Decemvirate represents primarily a
peaceful transition to absolute aristocratic rule; its legislative activity is
largely secondary. For Dionysius its establishment reflects plebeian
agitation not merely to ensure the equitable administration of justice but
to establish ssegoria (‘equal rights of free speech’ or ‘political equality’)
and isonomia (‘equality before the law’ or ‘equality of rights’), the corner-
stones of democracy (cf. also Zonar. vi1.18). For Livy the plebeian
objective was to limit the power of the consuls. None of these extrava-
gant interpretations can be sustained, at least in this form. Even the view
(common to Livy and Dionysius) that equality of rights or law was the
Tables’ specific intention lacks any foundation, unless it refers merely to
the previous inaccessibility of the law and the potential arbitrariness of its
administration; there is no evidence that in its formulation the law had
hitherto discriminated between different categories of citizen in matters
where they were now put on an equal footing.!3!

A true assessment of the purpose and achievement of the Twelve
Tables (and therefore the Decemvirate) must depend on analysis of their

131 Significantly in Livy Canuleius (1v.5.3) and Licinius and Sextius (v1.37.4) by implication
regard the Tables as having failed to establish true or full cegua /ibertas or aequum ius, which can only
be achieved by granting plebeians access to the magistrates (perhaps suggesting that for Livy at least
these phrases were predominantly political in their connotations (cf. also Tac. Aan. t11.27)). Cf. the
discussion in C. Wirszubski, Libertas as a Political Idea at Rome during the Late Republic and Early
Principate (Cambridge 1950) off.

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 231

extant provisions, although here too there is much uncertainty. For
example, with the exception of one or two regulations of obvious
immediate political impact, it is impossible to gauge how far the Tables
introduced major innovations in the law, since neither we nor the ancient
sources possess any reliable knowledge of earlier law on which to base an
opinion. It was, of course, believed in antiquity that the Tables included
new measures derived from Greek sources and two competing legends
sought to explain this influence: the embassy to Athens and elsewhere
(first in Livy and Dionysius) and the presence at Rome of the Ephesian
legislator Hermodorus (Pliny, HN xxxiv.21; Pomp. Dig. 1.2.2.4; cf.
Strabo xiv.1.25, p. 642C).132 Ultimately both fictions probably spring
from the observation of similarities between the Tables and Greek
legislation. In his Laws (Leg. 11.59ff; cf. Table x.1ff) Cicero derives
certain Decemviral restrictions on mourning from Solon.133 Gaius’
commentary on the Tables added Solonian models for the laws govern-
ing brotherhoods (sodalitates) (Table vi11.27) and the adjudication of
property boundaries (Table vi1.z), but here at least the parallels are
insufficiently close to show direct dependence. In any case, these specific
instances do not touch the main corpus of private law which had clearly
developed independently of Greek influence (cf. also Dion. Hal. Ant.
Rom. x1.44.6) and despite some possible immediate debts to Greek
models for the formulation of certain provisions,'™ it might be expected
that detailed acquaintance with contemporary Greek legislation would
have resulted in a significantly higher level of juristic and stylistic
sophistication than that encountered in the extant fragments.

Nonetheless, the notion of making public the law and the appointment
of a special commission for this purpose do probably derive directly or
indirectly from contemporary external sources, presumably again the
Greek colonies of the West. Even so, the scope and purpose of the
Tables, so far as we know them, remain fundamentally distinct. There is
little concern with the avoidance of material inequalities; few signs that
the laws were seen as a general education in socially desirable conduct
(only in specific areas do the legislators seek to control the individual or
group); and in no sense is the code itself or the law it enshrines regarded
as of divine origin or inspiration. Whether or not the Tables were the
subject of formal comitial approval, their acceptance rested on general
public recognition of the law they enshrined.

Although the mere act of recording and publishing the law may

132 Cf. Miinzer 1913[G278], col. 859-61.

'33 For discussion cf. Wieacker 1971[G 328], 772-81. If they are of Greek origin, one or more of
the western colonies is more probably the source (cf. also Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. x.51.5; $4.3) and the
borrowing, like some others (Norden 1939[G454], 254-8), may go back to an earlier period
(Colonna 1977[B312], 160-1). 14 E.g. Wieacker 1967(G327], 35tf.

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232 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

initially have imposed a brake on its development, the Tables did not
deprive the pontifices and magistrates of their role in determining or
advising on the law. The limited use of writing ensured that legal
knowledge, beyond the contents of the Tables, remained largely a
priestly preserve, and the omission from the code of the forms of action
and of technical legal definitions left a wide discretion in their hands.
This was also frequently employed to extend or modify the scopé of
existing provisions or to use them as the basis for new legal procedures
and institutions; adoption, the freeing of a son from paternal power and
the will ‘by bronze and balance’ were all created by a re-application of
Decemviral rules and institutions. Indeed, whereas initially alterations to
substantive law, the establishment of new actionable claims and the
extension of the right to execute a claim without judgement seem to have
been reserved to statute, increasingly the priests and, later, the magis-
trates were not restricted to principles, claims and procedures which
could be claimed to enjoy a legislative basis, however slight. As the will
‘by bronze and balance’ was developed, the pontifices surrounded it witha
series of regulations designed in particular to ensure maintenance of the
family rites. Magistrates were evidently prepared to countenance the
seizure of pledges in certain cases not covered by statute (cf. Gaius, Inst.
Iv.26f) and by the third century to institute new actions for claims based
on ‘good faith’ where no statutory remedy was available. As the Twelve
Tables became progressively inadequate, requiring supplementation
and, increasingly, revision, no objection seems to have been raised to the
use of magisterial initiative for these purposes.

What continued to be voiced was the demand that the law, whatever
its source, should be publicly known, openly administered (at least at the
in ture stage before the magistrate) and not subject to arbitrary variation.
These must be the primary motives also behind the compilation and
publication of the Tables (whence perhaps Livy’s distorted notion
(111.9. 1ff) that the plebeian objective was to limit consular power). In the
private sphere the fixing of the law, where conflicting practice made it
uncertain and recent developments needed formal recognition, may have
been as important as specific innovation. There was also the need to
clarify legal rights and liabilities and to publicize the severe consequences
of particularly heinous acts: hence presumably the detailed treatment of
the conduct of cases and execution of judgements, of penalties for delictal
offences, of family law and relations between neighbours. The proce-
dures and in particular penalties of the law were now clearly fixed and
freely accessible (cf. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 11.27.3f; x.1.1ff), and the
Tables specify that hearings, at least before the magistrate, are to take
place in the Comitium or Forum.!35

135 Table 1.7 (with Kelly 1976[G244], 103-4).

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 233

All this not only informed the individual of his legal position (thus
opening a small breach in the patrician monopoly of legal knowledge); it
also imposed clear restrictions on magisterial discretion and abuse.
Nonetheless, the Tables in no way affected the political structure of the
state in the way Dionysius and others imply. Indeed, the few known
measures of political import seem largely intended to reinforce both the
patriciate’s internal cohesion and its political dominance. If the restric-
tions on bills directed at individuals or inflicting a capital penalty are
authentic, they were probably designed to curb such proposals on the
part of plebeian tribunes (p. 201f), and the formal enunciation of the ban
on patrician—plebeian marriages clearly sought to maintain patrician
exclusiveness. The restrictions on funerary extravagance, mourning and
grave goods may also be relevant. Originally these were perhaps de-
signed to avoid more general social tensions, but their detailed
reaffirmation may also relate to the strains which such displays by the
more powerful families might create within the aristocracy itself, a
matter of particular concern to those less distinguished families which
supplied members of the first Decemviral board (p. 114).

All this points to the Tables as the work of patrician legislators. That is
in any case to be expected since they alone were familiar with private law.
It was this, however, which occupied the bulk of the code and whose
publication was presumably the chief objective of plebeian pressure. The
precise rules protecting defendants, the careful regulation of the position
of the judgement debtor, the measures against judicial corruption and
defaulting witnesses, the emphasis on the public character of judicial
proceedings suggest a background of uncertainty and at least potential
abuse similar to that which provoked unrest and opposition to aristo-
cratic rule in archaic Greek states.

Even so, the publication of the code can have had little direct relevance
to the poorer citizenry. So far as it is preserved, it contains few provisions
which might specifically protect them. The right of proletarii to have
anyone intervene on their behalf (Table 1.4) may have been designed in
their interest, but if so, its practical importance is doubtful since the
proletarius is in any case the least likely to find such a champion. In the
relations between patron and client the Tables as known imposed at most
a largely unenforceable sanction in cases of (undefined) gross miscon-
duct against the client (Table vii1.21). If regulations governing debt-
bondage were included,'% they were evidently insufficient to make its
nature clear to late republican authors. Above all, the Tables did little if
anything to remove the vast barriers which virtually excluded the poor
from legal action. The deterrent wager (sacramentum), for example, was

136 None are certainly preserved since Table v1.1 may not refer specifically to debt-bondage: cf.
Behrends 1974[G173], 137-84.

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234 §- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

still required for the pursuance or defence of most claims: fifty pounds of
bronze for cases involving items or penalties below 1000 lb. in value, five
hundred for those above that figure, to be deposited before the case
began and forfeited if it was lost.!37

Some concessions were incorporated. Where a man’s freedom was at
stake the wager was only fifty pounds (Table 11.14) and the individual
remained free until the case was decided. Although it is doubtful whether
the Tables fixed a maximum interest rate (p. 116), debts arising from oral
contract were pursued by a procedure where no wager was involved
(Table 11.1b) and the rights of defendants and treatment of the adjudged
debtor were also carefully defined (Table 111.16). It would be attractive
to conjecture that these provisions are new, but even so the creditor’s
position remained largely protected: he too benefited by the exemption
from a wager and after judgement he could use chains above the
prescribed weight, was obliged to provide only starvation rations and
ultimately, if the debt remained unpaid, could sell the debtor into slavery
or kill him. It must in any case be doubtful whether this form of
actionable loan was commonly available to the poor (who could offer
little as security) rather than the more substantial peasantry.

Even for this more affluent stratum the pursuance of claims against
their peers or superiors was hindered by the failure to publish the forms
of legal action, although the belief that precise verbal adherence to
particular formulae was required for any legal action is probably errone-
ous. Gaius (Inst. 1v.11; 30) seems to imply that the later strictness was the
progressive result of fastidious juristic attitudes, perhaps attempting to
limit use of the old forms of action in favour of the later formulary
procedure; even then what was demanded was not verbal accuracy for its
own sake so much as adherence to the established statutory basis of the
claim. !38 Nonetheless, the failure to include the relevant formulae in the
Tables meant that much must often have depended on the willingness of
priest or magistrate to prompt or assist if such a claim were to be pursued
correctly and successfully, and of course, even for the more securely
placed peasantry legal action against an aristocratic opponent was always
likely to prove problematic in practice unless he enjoyed the vigorous
support of a powerful patron.

However, it must have been this more substantial element within the
populace who principally benefited from the publication of the code.
They probably represent the minimum social and economic level which
could seriously contemplate independent legal action and some individ-
ual regulations seem to apply solely or principally at or above this level:

137 For this and other difficulties in litigation cf. von Ihering 1909{G226], 175-232; Kelly
1966[G242]. '38 Daube 1961[Gigt], 4-5.

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 235

the furnishing of transport to the sick defendant; the precise rules
governing the driving of a cart (or plough team) through another’s land;
the careful protection of those who purchase ‘by bronze and balance’
(mancipium), the reference to the lease of draught animals; the plethora of
regulations protecting peasant proprietors and defining their
obligations; the provisions regarding slaves and freedmen. The law
embodied in the Tables was not, of course, intended purely to satisfy a
particular social or political group. Its primary purpose is often to
establish social peace through the definition of mutual rights and respon-
sibilities, the restriction of the extra-legal exaction of vengeance, the
encouragement of mutual agreement between the parties (itself perhaps
reflecting a substantial use of private arbitration) or the imposition of an
equitable accommodation. Moreover, many of the regulations cited
above (and others, such as the recognition of clan inheritance and
guardianship rights) were also relevant to the highest levels within
Roman society, some of whom may have seen some concrete advantage
in the publication of the code. Nonetheless, the Tables were clearly the
result of popular pressure and this must be assumed to derive principally
from those who stood to benefit most: the more prosperous and indepen-
dent peasantry and those families of yet higher status which were
excluded from the patriciate.

(d) The character and objectives of the plebeian movement

The term ‘plebs’ is notoriously vague, denoting little more than the mass
excluded from a particular limited group or groups, and it can be used in
a variety of contrasts. In accounts of the early Republic ‘plebeian’ is
usually contrasted with ‘patrician’, but the implied assumption that all
non-patricians (except perhaps clients) were involved in the fifth-century
plebeian movement may be schematic, and the historians offer no more
than a superficial development of the contrast. Uncertainties over the
prevalence and character of clientship, the social strata which it primarily
concerned and the political behaviour of clients further obfuscate the
issue.

It is sometimes held!39 that the plebeian agitation was predominantly
an urban phenomenon, the work of artisans, craftsmen and traders
seriously affected by economic recession and reacting against a patriciate
whose power depended on substantial followings of rural clients. Such
views are based primarily on the rapid growth of Rome as an urban
centre in the sixth century, the later restriction of the activities of the

18 See especially Ed. Meyer 1895(H57), 1-18 = 1924, 1.333-55; Beloch 1926{Ar2], 273-83;
336-8; Ogilvie 1965{Brz9], 294.

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236 5. ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY JI

plebeian tribunes to the city and a derivation of the title ‘ribunus from an
original association with the four urban tribes. These arguments are,
however, insufficient. There is no evidence for any link between the
tribunate and the urban tribes (p. 217). The restriction of the tribunes to
the city is directly related to their function as a check on activities of the
magistrates conducted within or in proximity to the city boundary
(notably at the levy and in jurisdiction), and is designed above all to
exclude direct intrusion by tribunes in military campaigns. That cannot
have been formally prohibited in this period when all tribunician activity
against the magistrates was probably usurpative and conceivably the
tribunes initially intervened here also. If not, that may indicate merely
recognition by themselves and their following of the peculiar require-
ments of military command.

That urban based trades had developed over the sixth century is not to
be denied nor that they may have been peculiarly vulnerable to
unfavourable economic circumstances in the early Republic. Apart from
the sudden decrease in temple construction, however, the rate, scale and
effects of any decline are impossible to determine (p. 130f). So far as it
went, its principal impact may only have been felt when the plebeian
movement had already emerged and, in any case, given the routine
quality of Rome’s domestic production even in the sixth century and the
relatively modest development of her market, the proportion of the
population engaged primarily in urban occupations must have been
small. And unless the apparent neglect of trade and artisan activity in the
Twelve Tables is entirely due to the accidents of transmission, it does not
suggest that the agitation of their practitioners was the primary motive
force behind that reform.

Moreover, a sharp distinction between city and country is likely to be
gravely misleading. The analogy of Veii'*° and the strongly centralized
character of Roman political and economic life make it overwhelmingly
probable that many of those peasants who owned property close to
Rome lived in the city itself; indeed, only thus can the vast area covered
by the city be satisfactorily explained. Nor can a clear line be drawn
between peasant and artisan; some trades (e.g. tile manufacture) may
have been semi-seasonal and combined with small-scale farming; other
craftsmen may well have owned at least a kitchen garden. More funda-
mentally, craftsmen and peasants were bound together in a pattern of
recognizable mutual dependence, which revolved around the supply of
raw materials, finished products and agricultural surplus. The supposi-
tion that they saw themselves and acted as distinct groups with distinct
interests is not proven.

140 Kahane, Threipland and Ward-Perkins 1968[B3 50], 70-1.

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 237

If the Icilian plebiscite of 456 opening up the Aventine for settlement
is authentic (p. 139), it may imply a demand for land in or near the city
as one significant element in the plebeian agitation. Even so, however,
the principal factor here is likely to have been immigration from the
rural areas, as a result of poverty or external threat, and other consider-
ations suggest that the major role in the plebeian movement was in fact
played by the more substantial peasantry. In particular, the early adop-
tion of the tribal form of assembly gave a dominant voice to those
registered in the rural tribes and they were also the principal beneficiaries
of the most notable early plebeian successes. They above all profited by
the publication of the Twelve Tables and they also had a particular
(though not exclusive) interest in the tribunician right of assistance if, as
seems likely, that was employed primarily against magisterial judicial
decisions and the operation of the levy.

Common military service also offers some explanation for the imme-
diate and long-term success of the plebs. This presupposes a greater
political muscle than a movement composed largely of urban artisans or
the poor could have commanded. It also helps to account for the ability
and readiness of the plebs not only to organize itself initially but to
maintain its determination to assert its collective will where necessary.
Service in the ‘hoplite’ army, transcending individual social groupings
and reinforcing the sense of citizen rights and duties, probably stimu-
lated an awareness of common identity and grievance amongst the
independent peasantry who served in it, particularly in the context of the
increasingly heavy and unrewarding military demands of the fifth cen-
tury, and it created the most potent weapon which they could use to seek
a remedy.

Not that those of the ‘hoplite’ infantry who participated in the
plebeian agitation necessarily saw themselves as a distinct group rather
than as part of a wider popular movement. The adoption of the tribal
rather than the centuriate mode for the plebeian assembly presumably
reflects a very broad basis to the plebeian movement in its initial stages.
Those, for example, who qualified for the light-armed forces also had an
interest in checking magisterial abuse; and the impoverished and in-
debted within and below their ranks may also have been active early with
their own demands, although, with the possible exception of the Lex
Icilia of 456 B.c., we cannot determine how far there was specific
championing of their interests. Periodic corn shortages are certainly to
be assumed and it is presumably significant that the temple of Ceres
became a focus of plebeian activity, but to what extent the plebeian
officers were active in seeking remedies to such crises we do not know.
Debt was a persistent problem, but although the Twelve Tables deal
with judgement debtors, there is a curious dearth of evidence for popular

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238 5- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

or tribunician agitation about debt-bondage after the First Secession.
That probably reflects only the inadequacy of our sources since so potent
a source of tension can hardly have lain dormant for so long, but in any
case little concrete alleviation of the problem seems to have been
achieved.'*! The historians do record proposals concerning the alloca-
tion of public land, beginning with the agitation of Sp. Cassius, but the
details of his demagogy are based on events of the Gracchan period (p.
184) and it is difficult to see how any record of the subsequent tribunician
activity could have survived since it yielded no solid results. There is no
evidence that plebeians were legally excluded from public land and the
accounts of their expulsion by rapacious patricians (so already Cassius
Hemina fr. 17P) are clearly retrojected from later abuses which probably
gained in momentum (or at least in public awareness) over the course of
the second century and came then to form part of the background to the
Gracchan reforms. Nonetheless, local conflicts over public land set aside
for common use are almost inevitable and may even have been general-
ized into agitation over the rules governing its use and availability for
settlement, particularly if competition for access to such land intensified
as a result of an increasing need for summer pasture.

All this, however, is conjecture and any remedies secured by the plebs
were presumably short-term responses to immediate crises or the exploi-
tation for public benefit of the new opportunities for settlement which
arose late in the century (itself sometimes the subject of tribunician
agitation according to Livy): on the evidence available to us it was not
until 367 that institutional economic reform (even on the most modest
scale) was attempted, to mobilize support for the realization of the
political ambitions of the plebeian elite. And in the fifth century the
known institutional and more enduring successes of the plebs were
largely political not economic: the creation and development of the
tribunate, the Twelve Tables, perhaps the rescindment of the ban on
patrician—plebeian intermarriage and the first admission of plebeians to
office (conceivably also increasing popular participation in the appoint-
ment of the state magistrates and in some decision-making). These are
ultimately a response to the patrician seizure and exercise of power after
the overthrow of the monarchy and the work, above all, of those who
could use their military service as a lever to preserve and advance their
interests. In contrast, significant progress on land reform or the amelio-
ration of debt bondage was achieved only in the fourth century and was
largely a consequence of renewed expansion.

The political achievements of the plebs, in particular the maintenance

141 Public pressure may, however, have modified the severe penalties prescribed for judgement
debtors in the Twelve Tables since no instance of their implementation is recorded.

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 239

of the tribunate, also presuppose a reservoir of able leaders of an
economic and social status which provided the leisure, determination,
independence and standing to carry out the functions of the office, and it
is clear from the ban on legal marriages between patricians and plebeians,
from its later abandonment (allegedly by formal rescindment in 445 by a
plebiscite of the tribune Canuleius) and from the eventual admission of
plebeians to high office that such a core of plebeian families early existed.
When first such families ventured to press for admission to the
magistracies is impossible to determine. Some sources suppose that
plebeians were admitted to the senate as early as the regal period or the
first year of the Republic!*? but this is merely conjecture based on
explanations of the traditional designation of the senate as patres conscripti
(p. 181). Presumably once plebeians held the highest offices of state they
could no longer be barred from senatorial membership, but whether
Livy is right (v.12.11; cf. also Cic. Sest. 137) in his belief that some
achieved admission before this we cannot say. Livy and Dionysius do
suppose erroneously that the consular tribunate was accessible to plebe-
ians from the outset (p. 193), but otherwise in Livy’s narrative they
achieve office only in the last decades of the fifth century. The
quaestorship was opened to them in 421 and three plebeians were first
elected for 409, an account which again cannot be controlled but is
notable for its suspect names and detail. Finally, in 400 one plebeian, P.
Licinius Calvus, held the consular tribunate. In fact the surviving lists
(including Livy’s) show four plebeians in office that year, five more in
399 and five again in 396. Whether L. Aquillius Corvus in 388 is plebeian
is questionable, but Livy’s M. Trebonius under 383 must be, and
Diodorus gives four or five further plebeians under 379, of whom three
also appear in Livy.'43

The accuracy of these records is hard to judge. None of the names
involved is demonstrably spurious, unless the Campanian origin of the
Atilii is accepted (p. 194), but it is perhaps disquieting that whereas the
consular tribunes of 400, 399 and 396 belong largely to clans which
achieved considerable prominence in the fourth or third centuries, all or
nearly all those of 383 and 373 come from families of no subsequent
importance at least until the second century. Of course, the sheer
obscurity of these names argues for their authenticity, but it is remark-
able that only one at most! should hold the consulship when that was
opened to plebeians in 366. The issue is further complicated by the fact
that for 379 Diodorus has an implausible total of eight consular tribunes,

142 Ogilvie 1965[Br29], 236.

13 C. Licinius under 378 (Diod. xv.57.1; cf. Livy v1. 39.3) is, however, probably a corruption of
Licinus Menenius (Livy v1.31.1).

'4 Emending ‘Erenucius’ (Diod. xv.51.1 (379 B.c.)) to ‘Genucius’.

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240 5- ROMEIN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

suggesting that his list for this year includes some spurious accretions
(perhaps to supplement an originally defective record). Whether or not
these later plebeian consular tribunes are authentic, however, they only
marginally modify the temporary character of the success of 400, 399 and
396. It makes sense that the plebs should have forced acceptance of their
candidates during the war with Veii, perhaps out of military impatience
(though the patrician consular tribunes of the previous years were
certainly not disgraced), and the Roman voting system would encourage
the election of several plebeian candidates as the assembly sought to
ensure that at least some plebeians were successful.!45 After the capture of
Veii by the patrician dictator Camillus, however, the patriciate was
evidently able to reassert its position. In this reaction the old networks of
personal ties, cutting across status distinctions, and the traditional
criteria of individual prestige and standing may have reaffirmed their
role in maintaining patrician pre-eminence. The Gallic Sack too may
have contributed to a temporary cessation of internal argument. Hence
the plebeian insistence later on the reservation of one consulship to them
alone.

Political will provides only the immediate explanation of the progres-
sive breaking of the patrician monopoly: other underlying factors must
have played a significant role. The advent of ‘hoplite’ warfare may have
begun to undermine any aristocratic monopoly of military expertise, as
well perhaps as fostering a sense of plebeian unity. Earlier plebeian
advances may have weakened the patrician hold over some of their more
securely placed dependants or associates and whilst the emergence of the
plebs as a political force may initially have encouraged the aristocracy to
close ranks, in time leading plebeians may have developed ties with
individual aristocratic families which made their absorption into the
ruling elite both easier and more palatable. The plebeian Licinii even
claimed that they had contracted a series of marriage ties with major
patrician houses in the late fifth and early fourth centuries (Livy v.12.12;
v1.34.5f; 39.4) and whilst such claims must be treated with reserve, the
implication that patrician-plebeian intermarriage was already develop-
ing and even that the lead was taken by those patrician families whose
political position was most secure is entirely credible; the Decemviral
ban may have been prompted specifically by the incipient disintegration
of earlier custom (p.180).

Despite all the uncertainties, the plebeian movement of the fifth
century emerges as complex in its composition!* but limited in its

145 The very fact that plebeians enter the consular tribunate so suddenly and in such numbers
indicates that this is the result of popular pressure to break the patrician stranglehold rather than
simply a continuation of an alleged earlier occasional toleration of non-patricians in the chief
magistracy. 146 For a different view see below, p. 325f.

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THE PLEBEIAN MOVEMENT 241

aspirations. It owed much to the vigorous leadership of prominent
plebeian families, and although the core of its support probably came
from the more substantial peasantry, it was clearly intended to be open to
the entire non-patrician citizen body without distinction. Nonetheless, as
a permanent political entity the plebs existed primarily in its more
negative aspects, as a check on the magistrates through the activity of its
tribunes and the support which it accorded them. As a movement for
reform its existence was probably fitful, often more potential than actual.
Although the deficiencies of our evidence do not permit us to gauge the
frequency of such agitation, positive successes were sporadic and con-
tinuous pressure difficult to maintain; even the election of plebeians to
the consular tribunate could only occasionally be secured. Demands for
change were also probably contingent on immediate circumstances and
those active in their support will have varied, depending on the group(s)
whose interests were directly involved. To treat the plebs as a permanent
and coherent political force for change is to underestimate its essentially
discontinuous character and fluctuating composition.

It follows that the (rudimentary) plebeian organization was not a
coherent focus of permanent opposition to the organs of the Roman state
as such,!47 and still less did the plebeian movement constitute itself as a
‘state within a state’!48 in any meaningful sense. Although its offices
were to some extent modelled on the magistracies and it employed the
tribes as the basis of its assembly, the movement as it is known in the
historical period had no priests or (probably) prescribed rituals, it
imposed no taxes and probably had no treasury, it raised no armies, it had
no council, and it almost certainly exercised no distinctive civil or
criminal jurisdiction, except against those who violated the sacrosanctity
of its officers. !49 Indeed, as with appeal to the people (p. 220), the creation
of the tribunate, its early functions and demands may have rested partly
on appeals to the traditions of the common interests of the citizen
community and of the personal rights of the citizen. In practice at least
tribunician actions consistently reflect a broader conception of those
rights and interests than the patrician monopoly of political power and
the forms in which it was exercised might allow. Conceivably, although
the early tribunate consistently expressed popular distrust of magisterial
power, it claimed to act as a check on its misuse in the interests of the
community as a whole. Such a stance would explain in particular its non-
intervention in the conduct of military campaigns and would have
facilitated its later development into an instrument of government.

If this conjecture is correct, it may also assist in explaining why

\7 For a different view see below, p. 340. 148 Mommsen 1887-8[Ag1], III.145.
149 Mommsen 1887-8[Agr}], 111.146f.

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242 5- ROME IN THE FIFTH CENTURY II

plebeian objectives are never known to have included a fundamental
transformation of the social, economic or political order, although other
factors were no doubt primarily responsible. In a traditional society the
nature of the patrician claim to privilege, in particular its strong religious
character (p. 184), may have determined some to leave that claim
unchallenged, and Rome’s military difficulties throughout most of this
period created a paramount need for experienced commanders which the
patriciate may have been able to capitalize upon, at least until the end of
the century. The institution of clientship would fragment some potential
opposition; indeed, the patriciate could probably mobilize substantial
numbers of followers (of varying rank) to counter plebeian opposition.
The essentially transitory tenure of the tribunate itself, even with the
possibility of re-election, made the sustained pursuit of long-term aims
extremely difficult and in the short term too it was a weak instrument of
reform except on those few issues where vigorous mass support could be
mobilized. Moreover, those plebeians with the most effective leverage
(through ‘hoplite’ service) to press their demands may not themselves
have suffered major and persistent economic difficulties which might
have provoked a challenge to the existing order. Their concern was
primarily with the abuse of magisterial power and a more clearly defined
civil jurisdiction, and the developing role of the centuriate organization
provided a mechanism by which they (and to a lesser extent other
plebeians) could begin to be integrated into the process of political
decision-making. The primary interest of the plebeian leaders lay in the
removal of barriers to their personal advancement within the existing
framework rather than a major shift in the balance of power between
the various organs of government. Neither they nor many of their
followers sought to modify fundamentally the relative spheres of con-
cern of the state and the private individual nor did they, in contrast to
some Greeks, develop any concept of the territory of the state as the
collective property of the citizen body in which each individual was
entitled to share. A general redistribution of property was never actively
proposed in any period, so far as is known. If a remedy for land shortage
was the subject of conscious political decisions, it was conceived to lie in
the allocation of public land, essentially of territory acquired by military
conquest, and that became possible again on any scale only late in the fifth
century.

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CHAPTER 6

ROME AND LATIUM TO 390 B.c.

T. J. CORNELL

I. THE GROWTH OF ROMAN POWER UNDER THE KINGS

When King Tarquinius Superbus was overthrown in 509 B.c., Rome was
by all accounts a powerful city-state with a relatively extensive territory
(see below, Figs. 4o-1), a developed urban centre, an advanced institu-
tional structure and a strong army. We are told moreover that the
Romans exercised a kind of formal hegemony over the other Latin
peoples, and dealt on equal terms with the great cities of Etruria and
Campania. Their horizon extended as far as Sicily and Magna Graecia;
they had diplomatic and commercial links with Carthage, and perhaps
also with Massalia, the Greek colony at the mouth of the Rhone.!

This situation did not come into being overnight, however, but was
the result of a process of expansion and conquest undertaken by the
kings. Our knowledge of the process is naturally uncertain. One is bound
to be sceptical of narrative accounts which purport to describe cam-
paigns led by mythical or semi-mythical figures such as Romulus or
Tullus Hostilius. Although some of the stories may have a factual basis,
the circumstantial details given in the surviving sources are completely
unhistorical. Generally speaking they are the product of secondary
elaboration by annalists writing in the late Republic who had no clear
idea of the social and economic conditions of the archaic period and did
not appreciate how far they differed from those of their own age. The
annalists had no understanding of the character of primitive warfare, and
the imaginary details with which they enlivened their accounts are
largely anachronistic.

Even so, we need not doubt that under the kings armed conflicts with
neighbouring communities did take place, and it is possible that some
memory of them survived into the historical period. A notable fact about
the traditional narratives is that the wars are set within a topographical
framework that is both logical and historically plausible. The earliest
campaigns took place within a radius of a few kilometres of the city. Even

! Dion. Hal. Aat. Rom. vit.1.4-s (Sicily); Polyb. 11.22 (Carthage); Justin. xirt.s (Massalia: cf.
above, p. 111).

243

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244 6. ROME AND LATIUM

Map 2 Archaic Latium.

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ROMAN POWER UNDER THE KINGS 245

in cases where the Romans allegedly fought against entire nations such as
the Sabines or Etruscans, the scene of the action does not move beyond
the territory of Veii and Caere in the one case, or of Eretum and Lucus
Feroniae in the other. In Latium we hear of campaigns against the Prisci
Latini, the ‘Ancient Latins’,2 whose centres included Antemnae,
Caenina, Corniculum, Ficulea, Cameria, Crustumerium, Ameriola,
Medullia, Nomentum, Tellenae, Politorium and Ficana. The sources
themselves provide a general idea of the location of these places, some of
which have been identified with relative certainty (see Map 2), and
suggest that Rome’s earliest military operations were confined to a
narrow area extending a few kilometres to the north east of the city in the
district between the Tiber and the Anio, and in a south-westerly direc-
tion along the Tiber towards the coast.

The extent of Rome’s territory at this period is indicated by certain
ancient festivals concerned with boundaries (p. 84). Such ceremonies as
the Terminalia, the Robigalia, and particularly the Ambarvalia, in which
a procession of priests traced a boundary around the city (Strabo v.3.2, p.
230C), appear to date from a time when Rome’s territory extended for
about five Roman miles (a little over 7 km.) in each direction, and thus
embraced an area of between 150 and 200 square kilometres. Physical
traces of this ancient boundary also survived, for example the Fossae
Cluiliae, a primitive earthwork which lay five miles to the south of the
city and supposedly marked the boundary between Roman territory and
that of Alba Longa.

Expansion beyond these earliest known limits of the ager Romanus
began with the war against Alba Longa, which tradition ascribes to the
reign of Tullus Hostilius. As a result of Tullus’ victory the Romans
destroyed Alba, absorbed its population and annexed its territory.
Further gains were made by Ancus Marcius, Tullus’ successor, who is
said to have conducted a series of campaigns down the Tiber valley.
Ancus destroyed the towns of Ficana, Politorium and Tellenae, extended
the boundaries of the Roman state as far as the coast, and founded Ostia
at the mouth of the Tiber. The territory thus acquired was further
increased and consolidated under the last kings, and was divided by
Servius Tullius into a number of administrative districts which, together
with the four regions of the city, formed new local ‘tribes’.

The surviving sources are very confused on the subject of the local
tribes, and give no idea either of the function or of the actual number of
the tribes originally established by Servius Tullius (the situation is
discussed in Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Ant. Rom.tv.15.1,a text which
is itself unfortunately corrupt). Rather more definite information is

2 Livy 1.38.4; cf. Ennius, Aan. 22 Skutsch, who calls them casei Latini.

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246 6. ROME AND LATIUM

Ficulea

Crustumerium

Pedum

Aricia

Tusculum

Fidenae

Gabii

Nomentum

Labici

Lanuvium

Lavinium

Ardea

Praeneste

Tibur

Rome

Total

164

LATIUM VETUS, c. 500 B.C.
(Showing approximate
boundaries of the Latin City>States)

198-5
262:5
351
822

2344km'

Fig. 4o. Territories of the Latin city-states at the end of the sixth century B.c. After Beloch
1926 [Ara], 178.

given by Livy (11.21.7), who tell us that in 495 B.c. the number of local
tribes was fixed at twenty-one: fribus una et viginti factae (cf. Dion. Hal.
Ant. Rom. v11.64.6). Livy’s statement probably means that in that year
some new tribes were added to the existing ones, to bring the total up to
twenty-one. In any case the figure of twenty-one remained unchanged
until 387 B.c., when four new tribes were created after the annexation of
the territory of Veii (Livy v1.5.8). The clear implication of these reports is
that Rome’s territory at the time of the conquest of Veii (396 B.c.) had
been in her possession since the beginning of the Republic, and that most
of it was the result of expansion under the kings.

The territory which our sources attribute to Rome at the end of the

monarchy, and which was incorporated in the local tribes, measured
some 822 square kilometres, according to K. J. Beloch’s estimate.> This
amounts to 35 per cent of the total land area of Latium Vetus. The other
Latin cities were tiny by comparison. According to Beloch’s calculations,
which are based on a conjectural reconstruction of the territorial bound-
aries of the Latin cities, Rome’s two biggest rivals, Tibur and Praeneste,
possessed territories of 351 and 262.5 km.? respectively, and among the
rest only Ardea and Lavinium had more than 100 km.? each (see Fig. 40).
These figures are admittedly only conjectural; adjusting the boundaries
would produce marginally different figures and alter the relative propor-

3 Beloch 1926[A12], 169-79.

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ROMAN POWER UNDER THE KINGS 247

Satricum/ Ardea 40
Latium Rome (4 regions) 285

Rome (‘Servian’) 426

Volsinii/Orvieto 80
Etruria Caere 120

Tarquinii 150

Vulci 180

Veii 242

Cumae 72.5
Sicily and

Magna Graecia Metapontum 141

Gela 200
Croton 281

Tarentum 510

Thasos 52
Mytilene 155
Rhodes 200

Greece

Halicarnassus 350

Athens/Piracus 585

(a = 50 hectares

Fig. 41. The size of cities in the archaic and classical periods. Some comparisons. After
Ampolo in La formazione della citta nel Lazio 1980 [127], 175.

tions, but would not affect the general picture to any significant extent.

A recent study has calculated that if 15 per cent of the total land surface
was under cultivation in each year, Rome’s territory of 822 km.” would
have been able to support a maximum population of around 35,000
persons. 4 No doubt the actual figure was lower than this theoretical
maximum, and on balance Beloch’s conjecture of between 20,000 and
25,000 seems not unreasonable. Such a figure would make Rome a large
and important state by the standards of the archaic period.

This hypothetical conclusion is compatible with other quantifiable
data that can be obtained from the traditional account. For instance, we
are told that the urban centre of Rome had expanded beyond the original
nucleus of the Palatine and Forum, and that under Servius Tullius, who
established the sacred boundary (the pomerium), it included the Quirinal,
Viminal, Esquiline and Caelian hills (e.g. Livy 1.44). This area, the so-
called ‘city of the four regions’, was reckoned by Beloch to comprise
some 285 hectares. Comparable figures can be cited for major settlements
in Etruria and Magna Graecia, but those Latin cities whose urban areas
can be measured were much smaller; the largest of them, Satricum and
Ardea, occupied only about 4o hectares apiece (see Fig. 41). The standard

4 Ampolo 1980[C2], 15-31; cf. above, p. 164 n. 120.

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248 6. ROME AND LATIUM

of comparison is admittedly crude, but the data would nonetheless seem
to indicate that ‘Servian’ Rome was by far the largest and most powerful
of the Latin city-states.

Another indication of the power of Rome is given by the centuriate
organization, again ascribed by tradition to Servius Tullius. The most
probable reconstruction of the centuriate system in its original form
presupposes an army (c¢/assis) of 6000 hoplite infantry and Goo cavalry.5 It
has been reckoned that free adult males would normally amount to
around 29 per cent of the total free population of an ancient community.®
But the Servian c/assis, which was confined to men of military age who
could afford to equip themselves and excluded old men and proletarians,
must have constituted a smaller proportion of the population of sixth-
century Rome. If it was between 20 and 25 per cent of the total, the
population would have been between 26,400 and 33,000. A rival inter-
pretation of the Servian c/assis, which argues for a body of 4000 infantry,’
would by the same method of calculation produce a figure of between
18,400 and 23,000 for the total population. The figures in either case are
of the same general order of magnitude, and are consistent with those
already obtained on the basis of the estimated size of the ager Romanus.

The information contained in the literary sources can therefore help us
to construct a basic account that is logical, historically plausible and
internally consistent. Briefly stated, it tells us that by the end of the sixth
century B.c. successful wars of conquest had made Rome a large and
populous city which dominated its nearest neighbours. It is a matter of
considerable dispute, however, whether this conventional picture is
historically authentic. We do not know how the earliest Roman histori-
ans, writing in the third century B.c., conducted their research, or where
they obtained their information about the archaic period, and it is
therefore not surprising that the extant narratives should have been
treated with considerable scepticism by modern scholars. This is particu-
larly true of the remote age of the kings, about which even Livy was
doubtful.

Recent scholarship has nevertheless inclined towards the view that
Roman historians and antiquarians, wherever they obtained their infor-
mation, somehow succeeded in establishing a basically reliable outline of
the development of early Rome, even if they are not to be trusted in
matters of detail. This view is not, however, universally accepted; indeed
the most original and influential recent book on the subject (A. Alfdldi
1965 [I3]) was written with the explicit aim of challenging the whole basis
of the traditional account. Alfoldi argued that Rome under the kings was

5 Fraccaro 1931[G579}, 92-5 (= id. Opuseula 11.288-90); 1975{G582], 29-40.

6 R.P. Duncan Jones, The Economy of the Roman Empire (edn 2. Cambridge 1982), 264 n. 4.
7 Richard 1978[H76], 364.

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ROMAN POWER UNDER THE KINGS 249

an insignificant place with a restricted territory, and that the alleged
Roman hegemony in Latium isa fiction; indeed, during the sixth century
B.c. Rome was itself conquered and ruled by the Etruscans. This
unpalatable fact, according to Alféldi, was suppressed by the Roman
historians, who constructed in its place a completely false picture of
Roman power under the Tarquins. On this view the Roman conquest of
Alba Longa and of the lower Tiber valley took place in the middle of the
fifth century B.c.; the area embraced by the twenty-one local tribes did
not come under Roman control in 495 B.c., as Livy maintains, but only
towards the end of the fifth century, when the city emerged for the first
time as the dominant power in Latium.

The question of whether the tradition is acceptable in its main out-
lines, or whether it is to be rejected in favour of some alternative
reconstruction such as that of Alfdldi, cannot be answered with any
certainty in the present state of our knowledge. The balance of the
argument, however, seemsto favour the view, adopted in this chapter, that
the traditional picture of Rome’s development is at least as credible as any
of the modern hypotheses that have been designed to replace it, and that
radical theories such as Alfdldi’s create more problems than they solve.

The traditional picture can be supported by three main arguments.
First, the conquests that are traditionally ascribed to the kings cannot
easily be fitted into the existing record of events in the fifth century B.c.,
which is presented in the sources as a period of weakness and difficulty
for the Roman state and its allies. To date an event like the conquest of
Alba Longa in the middle of the fifth century creates all sorts of particular
difficulties. For example, in historical times there were six noble clans
that were supposed to have come to Rome from Alba Longa: the Juli,
Servilii, Quinctii, Cloelii, Geganii and Curiatii (Livy 1.30.2; Dion. Hal.
Ant. Rom. 111.29.7). But the fact that these ‘Alban’ gentes were patrician,
and are all represented in the consular fasti in the early decades of the
Republic (e.g. in 498, 495, 492, 482, 471 and 453 B.c.), must imply that
they migrated to Rome under the monarchy, and is in any case incom-
patible with the view that Alba was not conquered by Rome until the
mid-fifth century.

Secondly, the internal consistency and general plausibility of the
traditional account, which have already been remarked on, are in them-
selves an argument in favour of its basic authenticity. One would not
expect such a result if the Roman historians and antiquarians had grossly
misunderstood the evidence in front of them; one would rather imagine
that wholesale errors and misunderstandings would have led to confu-
sion, disagreement and inconsistencies in the literary tradition. It is
partly because of the general coherence of the traditional account that
sceptical historians such as Alfdldi have suggested that it was the product

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250 6. ROME AND LATIUM

of deliberate and systematic falsification; they believe that the annalists,
finding the evidence either inadequate or unsatisfactory, created a totally
false picture of the early history of the city, wilfully distorting such
evidence as was available, and freely inventing facts when evidence was
lacking. On this view the internal consistency and general plausibility of
the tradition come ultimately from the minds of the men who created and
organized the material of the story. For Alfdldi the organizing genius
was Fabius Pictor, the first Roman historian, who, in an attempt to make
a favourable impression on his Greek readers, constructed an exagger-
ated and overblown picture of Rome as a powerful independent state in
the sixth century B.c.

The chief objections to this theory are, first, that there is no good
reason to doubt the honesty of Fabius Pictor, and secondly that as far as
we can see Fabius was not in a position to impose a fraudulent version of
Rome’s past on successive generations of Roman historians. Quite apart
from the fact that earlier Greek historians such as Timaeus had already
written something about Rome in the regal period, it is hard to believe
that an intelligent and independent-minded ‘historian like Cato the
Censor would have meekly accepted Fabius’ view of early Rome if the
primary evidence, which he knew well, had said something radically
different. Again, if the Roman historians had been in the habit of
perpetrating wholesale lies and distortions, it is surprising that the
general structure of the narrative is so uniform in all the sources.

The third general argument is that the archaeological evidence, such as
it is, is consistent with the traditional picture of Rome as a flourishing
urban centre in the sixth century B.c. It is important, however, not to
exaggerate the force of this argument, and to be clear about precisely
what archaeological evidence can prove, and what it cannot prove. The
material that has been unearthed in recent excavations has greatly
increased our knowledge of the cultural development of early Rome and
the conditions of its material life; but it can hardly be expected to provide
much direct information about the external relations of the city. At-
tempts to verify the conquests of Tullus Hostilius or Ancus Marcius by
means of archaeological evidence have not surprisingly met with little
success. It is indeed hard to imagine what kind of archaeological evi-
dence, short of an explicit inscription, would be adequate to prove or
disprove the claim of our sources that the Romans conquered as far as the
coast and the Alban hills in the sixth century B.c.

Archaeology has not yet been able to confirm that the urban area of
Rome extended as far as the line of the ‘Servian’ pomerium in the sixth
century; nor is there any archaeological proof that the city was sur-
rounded by defensive fortifications in the late regal period (p. 80),
although the sources attribute the construction of city walls to both

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ROMAN POWER UNDER THE KINGS 251

Tarquinius Priscus and Servius Tullius (Livy 1.36.1; 38.6; 44; Dion. Hal.
Ant. Rom. 111.67.4; 1v.13). The earth rampart (agger) which encloses part
of the Esquiline, Quirinal and Viminal is of uncertain date, and may not
have embraced the whole of the city. A further limitation on the value of
archaeological evidence in the present context is the fact that we still
know very little about the other settlements of Latium Vetus during the
archaic age. The main reason for this deficiency is that most recent
archaeological work has concentrated on sites which by definition lay
outside the main areas of habitation — cemeteries and extra-mural sanctu-
aries. Archaeology has shown that Rome underwent dramatic changes
and developed into an urbanized community in the years around 600
B.c.; but it has not so far made it clear whether the same process was
simultaneously taking place elsewhere in Latium. Our sources imply
that Rome outstripped its Latin neighbours during the last century
of the monarchy, but this alleged fact cannot yet be demonstrated
archaeologically.

This is not to say, however, that archaeology has no contribution to
make in the present context. Excavations have given us a glimpse of the
monumental developments that occurred during the sixth century B.c. in
the area around the Forum Romanum (p. 75f), itself formally laid out as
a public meeting place in the later seventh century. Temples and other
public buildings have been located, some of them showing several
successive phases of construction. These finds provide a general confir-
mation of the tradition that the last kings engaged in extensive and
grandiose building projects in the city. The most important of these
constructions was the great temple of Iuppiter on the Capitol, which was
built by the Tarquins and dedicated in the first year of the Republic.
Archaeological evidence, in the form of fragmentary architectural
terracottas, confirms the dating of the temple, and traces of the founda-
tions and substructure serve to corroborate what tradition tells us about
the immense scale of the building (Fig. 42). The platform on which it
stood measured some 61 metres long by 55 metres wide (cf. Dion. Hal.
Ant. Rom. 1v. 61.3—4), making it one of the largest temples in the
Mediterranean world at the time. This fact in itself must lend support to
the tradition that Rome under the Tarquins was the leading state in
Central Italy. Artefacts from votive deposits and other contexts point in
the same direction, indicating as they do a highly developed material
culture and widespread external contacts.

In the light of this evidence there seems no good reason to reject the
tradition concerning the ambitious and successful foreign policy of the
last kings. We are told that they not only reduced the Latins to subjec-
tion, but also won victories against the Etruscans and Sabines, from
whom they made territorial gains (e.g. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.27:

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252 6. ROME AND LATIUM

woe

0 10 20 30 40 50m

Fig. 42. Plan of the Capitoline temple of luppiter Optimus Maximus, Iuno and Minerva. From
Gjerstad 1953-73 {As6], 111.181 fig. 116.

Servius Tullius). It is likely enough that the scale of operations in these
conflicts has been exaggerated in the sources. For example Dionysius of
Halicarnassus would have us believe that the whole Etruscan nation, the
‘Twelve Peoples’, had united in opposition to Rome, and that all of them
submitted to her on more than one occasion. But this idea, though

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ROMAN POWER UNDER THE KINGS 253

unacceptable as it stands, may well be the result of a misunderstanding of
a genuine historical fact, namely that successful campaigns were conduc-
ted against Etruscan peoples whose lands bordered on Rome’s. The
fantastic notion that Tarquinius Priscus received the surrender of the
Twelve Peoples of Etruria derived in part from antiquarian speculation
about the origin of the fasces (e.g. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 111.61); but this
does not rule out the possibility that Roman armies occasionally ravaged
the territories of Caere, Veii and Tarquinii, and that the ager Romanus was
extended beyond the Tiber under the kings. At least three of the earliest
rural tribes, the Romilia, the Galeria and the Fabia, were probably
located on the right bank (see Fig. 43), and the district known as the
Septem Pagi, which was the object of continual disputes between Rome
and Veii, seems to have fallen into Roman hands before the end of the
monarchy (Livy 1.13.4; 15.6; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v.36.4; 65.3).

In Latium itself the Romans had established an extensive hegemony by
the time of Tarquinius Superbus. The basis of this king’s success is said to
have been his reorganization of the Latin League into a regular military
alliance (Livy 1.52). In the course of his reign Tarquin captured Pometia
by storm, gained control of Gabii by means of a ruse, colonized Signia
and Circeii, and won over Tusculum by marrying his daughter to its
leading citizen Octavus Mamilius;$ at the time of the coup which led to
his expulsion, he was engaged in besieging Ardea.

There is nothing incredible in these reports. The story that the spoils
of Pometia paid for the construction of the Capitoline temple may well be
an authentic tradition connected with the building (cf. Tacitus, Hist.
111.72), while the treaty which Rome made with Gabii was preserved in
the temple of Semo Sancus and was still there in the time of Augustus
(Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.58.4). Two further pieces of evidence confirm
the fact of Rome’s ascendancy in Latium at this time. First the author of
lines 1011-1016 of the Theogony wrote that Agrios and Latinos, the sons
of Odysseus and Circe, ‘ruled over the famous Tyrsenians, very far off in
a recess of the holy islands’ (p. 57). If the appendix to Hesiod’s Theagony is
correctly dated to the sixth century B.c., these lines probably represent a
contemporary allusion to the power of the Latins under Roman leader-
ship during the age of the Tarquins. The second and most crucial piece of
evidence is the treaty between Rome and Carthage transcribed by
Polybius (111.22), and dated by him to the first year of the Republic.® In
this remarkable document the Romans and Carthaginians agree to be
friends and not to act contrary to each other’s interests. In particular, the
Carthaginians pledge themselves ‘not to injure the people of Ardea,

8 The sources cali him Octavius (sic) Mamilius. But it is probably better to presume a praenomen

Octavus (cf. Quintus, Sextus, Septimus, Decimus) than a name composed of two gentilicia (cf. Beloch
1926[A12], 189 n. 1). 9 Cf. below, pp. 520ff (with further discussion).

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254 6. ROME AND LATIUM

Menenia

Pupinia

Papir jig

—-—-— boundary of the ager
Romanus in 495 B.C.

Fig. 43. Conjectural location of the earliest rural tribes (495 B.c.) (after Taylor 1960 [G733]).

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ROMAN POWER UNDER THE KINGS 255

Antium, Lavinium, Circeii, Tarracina or any other city of the Latins who
are subjects of Rome. As for the Latins who are not subjects, they shall
keep their hands off their cities, and if they take any such city they shall
hand it over to the Romans unharmed. They shall build no fort in Latin
territory. If they enter the territory in arms, they shall not spend a night
there.’

Obviously, if this evidence is genuine, there can be no doubt about the
extent of Roman power in Latium. But is it genuine? The document
quoted by Polybius has long been the subject of dispute. The idea that it
was a deliberate forgery need not be entertained; but it is a serious
question whether Polybius (or his informant) was correct to date it to the
first year of the Republic. Livy makes no mention of any treaty between
Rome and Carthage before the one he records under the year 348 B.c.
(vi1.27.2); while Diodorus explicitly says that the treaty of 348 was the
first between the two states (xv1.69.1). On the other hand Livy implies
that there had been earlier treaties, because in his next reference toa treaty
he speaks of it being renewed ‘for the third time’ (1x.43.13: 306 B.C.; cf.
IX.19.13: foedera vetusta (‘old treaties’)). In fact there is much confusion in
the sources on this whole question. But Polybius is a reliable authority
whose statements cannot be lightly cast aside. The arguments for accept-
ing his date for the Carthaginian treaty were clearly set out in the first
edition of this work by H. M. Last,!° whose discussion remains funda-
mental and whose conclusions have not been seriously weakened by
subsequent efforts to discredit Polybius’ testimony.

The principal argument in favour of Polybius’ date is precisely the fact
that the contents of the treaty accord with the historical circumstances of
the late sixth century B.c. The treaty makes Rome the overlord of a
miniature ‘empire’ in Latium extending down the coast as far as the
Pomptine plain. This conforms precisely to the situation described in the
sources as obtaining under Tarquinius Superbus, whose control of the
region is implied by his capture of Pometia and his foundation of a colony
(whatever that precisely means) at Circeii. We may note that a later date is
ruled out by the fact that the Pomptine district and much of southern
Latium were overrun by the Volscians at the beginning of the fifth
century and were not regained by Rome until a hundred years later. In
short, unless we choose to believe that the treaty is itself an integral part
of some mischievously contrived scheme of falsification, we may reason-
ably conclude that its close agreement with the surviving accounts of
Tarquin’s military and diplomatic achievements is a guarantee both of
the correctness of Polybius’ date and of the general authenticity of the
rest of the tradition.

10 Last 1928(Krs2], 859-62.

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256 6. ROME AND LATIUM

That a treaty should have been concluded between Rome and Car-
thage at the end of the sixth century B.c. is not in itself particularly
surprising. Carthaginian interest in the area of the Tyrrhenian Sea during
this period is well documented, and it is probable that the treaty with
Rome was one of a number of such agreements which the Carthaginians
made with friendly states in the area. Aristotle refers to treaties between
Carthage and the Etruscans as classic examples of a particular type of
trading agreement (symbolon) which provided for a mutual exchange of
rights and privileges; according to Aristotle, the contracting parties
became ‘like citizens of one city’ (Po/. 111.1280 36). The purpose of these
symbola seems to have been to ensure rights of access to foreign trading
ports and to protect the interests of traders resident in them.

The presence of communities of Phoenician traders in Etruscan ports
is indicated by the existence of a coastal settlement called Punicum (S.
Marinella) in the territory of Caere, and by the bilingual (Etruscan and
Phoenician) inscriptions that were discovered in the early 1960s at Pyrgi
(S. Severa), another Caeretan port. The Pyrgi inscriptions, which date
probably from the early fifth century B.c., record a dedication to the
Phoenician goddess Astarte (Etruscan Uni) by Thefarie Velianas, the
ruler of Caere (Fig. 44). The fact that he claimed to be ruling by favour of
the goddess suggests that the resident Phoenician merchants had consid-

1N-)A I AlMt-4
VIN ALRASAMAY
AlMNG ORM AVAINY
AP10-AtVOVAIN A?
VAC RANAINTIT 1414

ewey

Fig. 44. Gold tablet from Pyrgi: the longer Etruscan text (early fifth century?). From M.
Cristofani in Ridgway and Ridgway 1979 [A111], 406 fig. 6.

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THE FALL OF THE MONARCHY 257

erable political influence. Close ties between Caere and Carthage were of
long standing. A generation or so before the time of Thefarie Velianas (in
¢. §40 B.C.), their combined fleets had fought a naval battle against the
Phocaean Greeks in the Sardinian Sea (Herodotus 1.166—7).

It is possible, though not yet demonstrable, that there was a colony of
Phoenician traders resident in Rome during the archaic period (cf. above,
p. 53). Inany case it is likely that the Carthaginians would have wanted to
establish good relations with the city on the Tiber that controlled a
long stretch of the central Italian coastline, and it would obviously have
made sense for them to keep on good terms with the new republican
regime that established itself in Rome after the fall of Tarquin, when all
existing agreements would have been automatically terminated. For
their part, the new Republic’s leaders might have hoped to obtain
recognition for themselves by a formal agreement with Carthage, and at
the same time would have wanted to assert their claim to the position of
hegemony in Latium which the kings had formerly possessed. The first
year of the Republic is therefore a plausible context for a treaty between
Rome and Carthage.

W. THE FALL OF THE MONARCHY AND ITS CONSEQUENCES

If the Republic’s founding fathers had been hoping to carry on where
Tarquin had left off, they would have been disappointed. In the event the
downfall of the monarchy was attended by an upheaval which threatened
to undermine Rome’s dominant position and profoundly affected the
political relationships of all the peoples of Central Italy. But it is
uncertain whether this upheaval was a cause or a consequence of
Tarquin’s expulsion. The events themselves are difficult to reconstruct,
and a proper understanding of them is beyond our grasp. The reason for
this difficulty is that the aristocratic tradition of the Republic, with its
proverbial hatred of kingship, transformed the memory of the events
into a heroic struggle by the Roman people to preserve their newly won
liberty in the face of repeated attempts by Tarquin to regain his throne.

Tarquin is said to have applied first to Veii and Tarquinii, and
persuaded them to mount an armed invasion of Roman territory; this
initiative was thwarted at the battle of Silva Arsia in which the Romans
were victorious, in spite of the loss of their consul, L. Brutus. Tarquin
then turned to Lars Porsenna, the king of Clusium, who marched on
Rome and besieged it from his camp on the Janiculum; but the heroism
of Horatius Cocles, Mucius Scaevola and Cloelia persuaded Porsenna to
relent, and to send his forces instead against the Latin town of Aricia. The
expedition ended in failure, however, when the Etruscans were defeated
by the Latins and their allies from Cumae. Tarquin then enlisted the aid of

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258 6. ROME AND LATIUM

his son-in-law, Octavus Mamilius of Tusculum, who mobilized the Latin
League in his support and led a general revolt against Rome. Finally,
after the defeat of Mamilius and the Latins at the battle of Lake Regillus
(499 Or 496 B.c.), Tarquin took refuge with Aristodemus the Effeminate,
the tyrant of Greek Cumae and the leader of the Cumaean army that had
helped the Latins against Lars Porsenna. It was as an exile at the court of
Aristodemus that the hated Tarquin finally ended his days, in the
consulship of Appius Claudius and Publius Servilius (495 B.c.: Livy
1.21.5).

This romantic story is exciting but does not carry much conviction asa
historical account. That is not to say, however, that the events them-
selves are unhistorical. The expedition of Lars Porsenna, for instance, is
almost certainly authentic, in spite of recent efforts to prove the con-
trary.!! The destruction and abandonment of a number of archaeological
sites in southern Etruria at the end of the sixth century would seem to
indicate some kind of violent unrest at this period; more explicit evidence
is provided by the account in Dionysius of Halicarnassus of the life and
deeds of Aristodemus of Cumae, which recent studies have shown to be
based on an independent Greek source (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v11.3—6).'2
This remarkable account, which probably derives ultimately from local
traditions of Cumae, describes Aristodemus’ victory over the Etruscans
at Aricia and gives a precise date (504 B.C.).

The biography of Aristodemus confirms what one might otherwise
have suspected, namely that the Roman tradition has distorted the truth
by placing the exiled Tarquin at the centre of the stage. In fact the change
of regime in Rome was only one element in a more complex and far-
reaching set of events. The received tradition gives a particularly mis-
leading account of the role of Lars Porsenna. This conclusion is based on
the fact that some writers knew ofa variant tradition, according to which
the Romans surrendered to Porsenna and were obliged to submit to
humiliating terms (Tac. Hist. 111.72; Pliny HN xxxtv.139). If that is true,
and it is hard to see why anyone should invent anything so perverse, then
it helps to explain the strange story that survivors of Porsenna’s army
were given refuge in Rome after their defeat at Aricia (Livy 11.14.8—9); on
the other hand the conventional version of the beginning of the Republic
is placed under severe strain, and it becomes impossible to believe that
Porsenna’s principal aim was to reinstate Tarquin. It has indeed been
suggested that, so far from attempting to install Tarquin, Porsenna
actually removed him, and either ruled in his place or set up a puppet

"1 Wemer 1963[A134], 381.
12 Alfdldi 1965{I3}, 55f Momigliano 1966{A84}, 664f; Gabba 1967[B63}, 144f; Cornell
1974{B32], 206f.

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THE FALL OF THE MONARCHY 259

regime (the ‘consuls’) to govern the city on his behalf.!3 However that
may be, and the precise details are obviously not now recoverable,
Porsenna’s sojourn in Rome cannot have lasted for long, and we may
safely assume that after the battle of Aricia Rome’s monarchic age was
definitely at an end.

The complex narrative of the overthrow of King Tarquin and the
related story of Lars Porsenna’s attack on Rome raise in an acute form the
general problem of Rome’s relations with the Etruscans in the archaic
period. The standard interpretation, which can be found in the majority
of modern works, is that the expulsion of the kings marked the end of a
period of Etruscan rule in Rome, and the reassertion by the Romans of
their national independence. The most radical version of this theory
maintains that Lars Porsenna’s adventure was merely the last in a series of
Etruscan conquests, by which Rome was subjected to the rule of one
Etruscan city after another.!4 These conquests were part of a wider
pattern of expansion in Italy which led to the formation of an Etruscan
‘empire’ extending from the Po valley to the gulf of Salerno. By occupy-
ing Rome the Etruscans gained control of a vital crossing of the River
Tiber; once this strategic point was secure they were able to continue
their advance towards Campania, where they took over existing settle-
ments at Capua and Nola, probably in the second half of the sixth century
B.C.

The corollary of this thesis is that the fall of the Roman monarchy at
the end of the sixth century severed the link between Etruria and the
Etruscan settlements in Campania, and was a major cause of their
ultimate decline; the process was aggravated by the defeat of Porsenna’s
army at Aricia, and later by the destruction of an Etruscan fleet by Hiero
of Syracuse off Cumae in 474 B.C. (Diod. x1.51; Pind. Pyth. 1.72). The final
blow came when Campania was overrun by Oscan-speaking highlanders
in the 420s (see below, p. 284f).

That Rome under the Tarquins was in some sense an Etruscan city
cannot seriously be denied. The process of urbanization that began in the
second half of the seventh century B.C. was at least in part the result of
Etruscan influence, and the effect of Etruscan ideas on the development
of Roman religious cults, political institutions, and social customs was
far-reaching. We may note that the Roman tradition makes no attempt to
conceal this fact; on the contrary, the written sources provide most of the
evidence. Archaeology too has shown that in terms of its material culture
regal Rome belonged to the world of the Etruscan cities.

But it does not necessarily follow from the fact of Etruscan cultural

13 Ed. Meyer 1907—-37[A79], 111.752 1.1; cf. AlfGldi 1965[I3], 77; above, p. 178.
14 E.g. Homo 1927[A66}, 115; AlfGldi 1965{13], 206ff; Heurgon 1973[A64], 140-1.

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260 6. ROME AND LATIUM

influence that Rome was politically dominated by the Etruscans. The
literary sources do not, and the archaeological evidence cannot, provide
support for the proposition that Rome was subjected to alien rule in the
archaic period. The Elder Cato may have written that ‘almost all of Italy
was once in the power of the Etruscans’ (Origines fr. 62P; cf. Livy 1.2.5;
V.33.7-11). But Cato certainly did not mean to imply that Rome was once
in the power of the Etruscans; rather, the context makes it clear that his
reported statement referred to the time of the legendary Metabus, a
contemporary of Aeneas, and consequently has no relevance to the
question of Rome’s position in the archaic age.!5

The widely canvassed notion that the Etruscans needed to control
Rome and other Latin places in order to secure a direct overland route to
their colonial settlements in Campania is a modern myth. Nothing
compels us to believe that the Etruscan settlements in Campania required
the support of a direct umbilical link with the mother country. A much
more reasonable hypothesis is that under the Tarquins Rome was an
independent power, but that the Etruscan element in its population was
politically dominant and ruled the city in the Etruscan interest. Thus it
has been argued that ‘the presence of an Etruscan ruling family may well
have facilitated Etruscan control of the land route to Campania’.!6 Sucha
statement would be unexceptionable if its leading assumption could be
shown to be true. But there is no evidence that the foreign policy of the
Tarquins was in any way ‘pro-Etruscan’. In fact, as we have seen,
tradition maintains that they ruled as independent kings of Rome and
fought wars against the Etruscan cities. Again it is not necessary to
suppose that the coup which drove out the Tarquins entailed a change in
Roman policy towards the Etruscans, nor is there any evidence for sucha
change.

As far as internal politics are concerned, it is important to stress that
the Tarquins do not appear to have favoured the Etruscan element in the
population at the expense of other groups. There is no trace of racial
discrimination in any of the institutions attributed to the Tarquins (or
Servius Tullius). Attempts to prove that archaic social distinctions, such
as that between patricians and plebeians, were founded on racial differ-
ences have been discredited by modern scholarship.’” In short, the fact
that the Tarquinii were an Etruscan family does not necessarily imply
that the ruling class of Rome was wholly or predominantly Etruscan.

Recent research has shown that the ethnic composition of the popula-

'5 Colonna 1981[F15], 159. The same considerations apply to Cato, Origines fr. 12P, on which see
Momigliano 1967{144], 213 (= id. Quarto Contributo 492-3).

16 Ridgway 1981{J103], 31. For the view given in the text see Colonna 1981{F15], 165.

'7 On the history of this question see Richard 1978[H76], 27ff; Momigliano 1977[H63], off
(=id. Sesto Contributo 480ff).

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THE FALL OF THE MONARCHY 261

tion of archaic Rome was very diverse, and that there was a complex
interaction of different ethnic elements at all social levels. This situation,
which has been analysed in detail in a series of papers by C. Ampolo,'®
was made possible by a high degree of horizontal social mobility which
characterized all the communities of Tyrrhenian Central Italy in the
archaic age. The most important evidence for this proposition comes,
once again, from the literary tradition. The Romans of later times were
well aware of their mixed origins, and made a positive virtue of the fact
that their ancestors had been willing to admit foreigners into their midst.
The tradition records many examples of individuals and groups who
migrated to Rome and were accepted into the ruling elite. They include
the kings Titus Tatius and Numa Pompilius, the adventurer Mastarna of
Vulci, and Attius Clausus, the ancestor of the Claudian house. But for the
Romans the most striking example of their ancestors’ willingness to
admit foreign immigrants was precisely the story of the family of the
Tarquins.

According to tradition Tarquinius Priscus migrated to Rome with his
wife and family because he knew that it was a place where he would be
accepted and where he would be able to make his fortune. Conversely the
exile of Tarquinius Superbus did not involve the expulsion of all
Etruscans from the city, but merely that of the Tarquinii. Thus, Livy tells
us, ‘in accordance with a decree of the senate, Brutus brought before the
people the proposal that every member of the Tarquin family should be
banished from Rome’ (Livy 1.2.11). These accounts are consistent with
the model of an ‘open’ society in which individuals and groups could
move freely from one place to another without loss of rights or social
position. The phenomenon is attested at other places besides Rome. The
tradition of the Corinthian Demaratus, supposedly the father of
Tarquinius Priscus, who migrated from Corinth to Tarquinii, is exactly
parallel to the story of Tarquin’s own move to Rome. Another example is
Coriolanus, the Roman who went to live among the Volscians and
became their leader. Considered in the light of these examples, even the
tale of Sextus Tarquinius, the tyrant’s younger son, who persuaded the
people of Gabii to accept him under false pretences, is perhaps not as
improbable as it might otherwise seem (Livy 1.5 3-4).

Whether or not these stories are literally true does not really matter.
What is important is that they reflect a genuine feature of the archaic
society of Central Italy. In the Etruscan cities inscriptions have revealed
the presence of families of Greek, Latin and Italic origin occupying
positions of high social rank.'9 In Rome the same phenomenon is attested

8 Ampolo 1970~1[Gz], 37-68; 1976-7[G3], 333-45; 1981[G4], 45-70.
19 Ampolo 1976-7[G3], 3354.

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262 6. ROME AND LATIUM

by the consular fasti, which show that many immigrant families held the
supreme magistracy during the early years of the Republic. The presence
of Etruscan names among the consuls of the early Republic proves
incidentally that the end of the monarchy did not entail the wholesale
expulsion of Etruscans from the city; and the archaeological record
shows that Etruscan cultural influence continued without a break well
into the fifth century.

These facts accord with the literary tradition, which contains no hint
of any anti-Etruscan reaction at the time of the fall of the monarchy. The
story that after his expulsion Tarquin received help from Octavus
Mamilius and the Latins (a much more credible version than that which
makes him a protégé of Lars Porsenna) is a further indication that these
events should not be seen as symptoms of a wider racial conflict between
Etruscans and Latins. In fact there is no good reason to distrust the clear
message of the sources, that the Romans overthrew Tarquinius
Superbus, not because he was an Etruscan, but because he was a tyrant.
Forever after the Romans hated the very idea of a king; but there is no
trace in the Roman historical tradition of any residual prejudice against
Etruscans as such.?0

If the fall of the monarchy was not a symptom of a general collapse of
Etruscan power in central Italy, it nevertheless had far-reaching effects
on the city’s external relations. The most important of these repercus-
sions were the disintegration of Roman power in Latium and the
subsequent restructuring of the Latin League in the early years of the
fifth century. But it is not immediately obvious why such developments
should have been occasioned by a change of regime in Rome, which
might at first sight appear to have been an entirely domestic affair.

How Rome’s neighbours might have reacted to the foundation of the
Republic is not a question that can be answered with any certainty
because we are poorly informed about their internal political and consti-
tutional systems. It has been argued, however, that this was a period in
which the institution of monarchy was everywhere under threat, and that
republican regimes were being established throughout Central Italy, in
Etruria as well as in Latium, in the late sixth and early fifth centuries B.c.2!
Unfortunately this attractive theory cannot be substantiated by detailed
evidence. While it is certain that republican governments were eventu-
ally set up in all the cities of Central Italy about which we know anything,
and that there is no trace of monarchy anywhere after the beginning of
the fourth century B.c., nevertheless the details of the process are unclear.

2 In fairness it must be said that some scholars view the matter differently. For example D. Musti
1970(Br1g] argues that the surviving tradition is a complex tapestry of pro-Etruscan and anti-
Etruscan threads; but these threads are not visible to me.

21 E.g. Mazzarino 1945(F47].

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THE FALL OF THE MONARCHY 263

As far as the Latin cities are concerned, there is little trace of the
institution of kingship in the surviving tradition, which makes no
reference to kings in the period after the destruction of Alba Longa, and
if anything implies that the Latin communities were governed by aristo-
cratic regimes in the sixth century. In Etruria, on the other hand, we
know that some monarchies survived well into the fifth century, for
example at Caere and Veii; indeed Veii was still ruled by a king at the time
of its capture by the Romans in 396 B.c. We may also note that the
institution of tyranny lasted longer in the Greek cities of Sicily and
Magna Graecia than on the Greek mainland, and was not generally
superseded until around the middle of the fifth century.

It is most probable that the political upheaval in Rome provoked a
variety of different reactions in neighbouring states. Some might well
have taken the opportunity to follow suit by expelling their own rulers,
and indeed we read in Livy that Sextus Tarquinius was assassinated by
the people of Gabii as soon as they heard the news of the revolution in
Rome (Livy 1.60.2). On the other hand, a hostile reaction was to be
expected in places where the Tarquins had established good relations
with the local ruling families, for example at Tusculum, where Superbus’
son-in-law Octavus Mamilius began to organize a revolt against Rome (it
is worth noting that none of the sources describe Mamilius as king of
Tusculum). In general, however, it is likely that most of the Latins would
have welcomed the opportunity provided by the fall of the Tarquins to
free themselves from Roman domination.

The Latin revolt, according to the most probable reconstruction, was
a continuation of the organized resistance of the Latins to the forces of
Lars Porsenna, whose brief occupation of Rome had temporarily isolated
the city from the rest of Latium and was partly responsible for the fall of
the Tarquins. The link between Tarquinius Superbus, Octavus Mamilius
and Aristodemus of Cumae makes political sense not because of a shared
attachment to the idea of kingship but because of their common oppo-
sition to Lars Porsenna. After the battle of Aricia, and the withdrawal of
both Porsenna and Aristodemus, the stage was set for a conflict between
Rome and the rest of the Latins, with the Romans attempting to regain
their former ascendancy, and the Latins determined to resist. There is no
reason to doubt that Tarquinius Superbus was closely involved in these
events, although it is probable that his role was secondary.

The issue was settled, so we are told, at the battle of Lake Regillus in
either 499 or 496 B.c. (Livy 11.21.3-4), where the Romans under the
dictator A. Postumius Albus won a memorable victory. The battle was
followed, after an interval of a few years, by a treaty between Rome and
the Latins (traditionally 493 3.c.). The treaty, known to posterity as the
foedus Cassianum from the fact that it was signed on Rome’s behalf by the

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264 6. ROME AND LATIUM

consul Sp. Cassius, defined the formal relations between Rome and the
Latins which were to persist for the next 150 years. But before we
consider the terms of the treaty, it will be necessary to attend briefly to the
previous history of the Latin League.

Hl. THE LATIN LEAGUE

In the fifth and fourth centuries B.c. the communities of the ‘Latin name’
(nomen Latinum) were joined together in a political and military feder-
ation that we traditionally call the Latin League. Political relations
between the Latin states during this period were regulated by the
provisions of the treaty of Spurius Cassius. It is certain, however, that the
treaty did not itself create the Latin League, but merely introduced
modifications to a pre-existing structure, and in particular redefined the
position of Rome in relation to the other Latins. But we have only a very
sketchy and unreliable picture of the league in the period before the
Cassian treaty, and since our knowledge of the treaty itself is poor, there
is also much uncertainty and controversy about the organization and
character of the league even in the fifth and fourth centuries.

This uncertainty arises from the fact that our sources have all, to a
greater or lesser extent, been influenced by later developments. In the
third and second centuries B.c. the Latin name had ceased to have an
exclusive ethnic or territorial significance, and the phrase was used
instead to describe a particular juridical category of non-Roman commu-
nities in Italy. The important point about these later ‘Latin’ communities
is that they possessed a special status vis-a-vis the Roman state. As
individuals the Latins could exercise certain rights and privileges in their
dealings with Roman citizens. In other words, Latinity was defined in
terms of a bilateral relationship (or, rather, a series of bilateral relation-
ships) between unequal partners, rather than by membership of a wider
community or federation of states.

The sources have allowed this state of affairs to colour their picture of
the Latin League in the archaic period. From the very earliest times the
Latins are presented as a mere appendage of the Roman state, a group of
subject allies who were under a formal obligation to furnish troops for
Rome’s armies, and who were condescendingly granted a privileged
status in comparison with other subject communities.

The traditional account maintains that the league had military and
political functions from the beginning. The basis of this conception was
the belief that all the peoples of Latium Vetus were the colonies of a
single city, Alba Longa, which consequently exercised a position of
hegemony in the period before its destruction by Tullus Hostilius:
‘Albanos rerum potitos usque ad Tullum regem’ (Cincius ap. Festus 276

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THE LATIN LEAGUE 265

L). This seems to be an anachronistic and artificial’construction modelled
on the relationship that existed in historical times between Rome and its
colonies, many of which possessed Latin rights and by the middle of the
third century formed the majority of the socii nominis Latini (‘allies of the
Latin name’). According to the traditional account, the victory of Tullus
Hostilius gave Rome the hegemony that had formerly belonged to Alba
(e.g. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 111.34.1). The new dispensation was solemnly
enshrined ina treaty (Livy 1.32.5; 52.2) which was subsequently renewed
on several occasions following Latin ‘revolts’. The foedus Cassianum was
merely one such renewal. Thus it became possible to present relations
between Rome and the Latins as persisting unchanged from the time of
Tullus Hostilius to the end of the Latin War in 338 B.c. This reconstruc-
tion, as Mommsen said, is not history, but rather a way of representing a
constitutional doctrine.”

The theoretical possibility that there really was some kind of ‘Alban
hegemony’ in very early times cannot be entirely discounted, although it
is not supported by any reliable evidence. The archaeological record,
which shows that a number of small settlements existed in the region of
the Alban Hills during the earliest phases (I and IIA) of the ‘cultura
laziale’ (p. 34f), cannot really help to clarify the political role of the city of
Alba Longa, of which no archaeological trace has yet been found, and
presumably never will be, since ‘Alba’ was traditionally destroyed in the
pre-urban period.

It isin any case much more likely that the prominence of Alba Longa in
the traditional story derives not from any supposed political hegemony
but from the historical fact that the national festival of the Latin peoples
was celebrated each year within its former territory, on the Mons
Albanus. There can be no doubt about the antiquity of this cult, or of its
importance in the national consciousness of the Latin peoples. In the
historical period it was the Latin cult par excellence. The annual festival,
known as the Latiar or Feriae Latinae, was in honour of Iuppiter Latiaris,
who was identified in legend with Latinus, the eponymous ancestor of
the tribe (Festus 212 L). The site of the cult, the summit of the Alban
Mount (Monte Cavo), is the highest point in the region (949 m.) and
dominates the plain of Latium.

The Feriae Latinae, which were celebrated in the spring of each year,
continued to take place long after the dissolution of the Latin League in
338 B.C., and were still being performed in the time of the emperors. The
central element of the ritual was a banquet to which each of the communi-

22 Mommsen 1887-8]Ag1], 111.611: ‘Es ist das nicht Geschichte, wohl aber die staatsrechtliche
Darlegung des Verhidltnisses welches der Auflésung des latinischen Bundes unmittelbar
vorherging, der Hegemonie Roms iiber die iibrige in foderativer Geschlossenheit neben ihm
stehende Nation.’

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266 6. ROME AND LATIUM

ties taking part contributed lambs, cheese, milk, or something similar
(Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.49.3; the pastoral character of the ceremony is
evidence of its extreme antiquity). A white bull was sacrificed, and each
community received its share of the meat.?3 A curious list of thirty ‘populi
Albenses, who. . . used to receive meat on the Alban Mount’ is given by
Pliny the Elder (HN 111.69) and perhaps represents an early stage in the
development of the cult (see below, p. 267). It is probable that the
division of the meat into thirty portions had a special significance and
was artificially maintained for ritual purposes throughout the history of
the Feriae Latinae. This would explain the repeated references in our
sources to the ‘thirty peoples of the Latin name’ (e.g. Livy 11.18.3; Dion.
Hal. Ant. Rom. v1.63.4, etc.). The ceremony was evidently an expression
of tribal solidarity, and constituted an annual renewal of the ties of
kinship that united the Latin peoples. Participation in the cult was a
badge of membership; che Latin name cou!d be said to consist exclusively
of those peoples who received meat at tne annual banquet on the Alban
Mount. If one of the Latin peoples failed to obtain its proper share of the
meat, the whole ceremony had to be repeated (see e.g. Livy xxx1I.1.9;
XXXVII. 3.4).

What is uncertain, however, is the relationship between the cult of
Iuppiter Latiaris and the political league of Latin states that existed at the
end of the sixth century B.c. Although it might seem simple enough to
argue that the latter evolved naturally out of the former, or that the
annual reunions on the Alban Mount were merely a religious function of
the Latin League, most scholars are careful to distinguish between the
two institutions. This caution is justified for a number of reasons. We
may note for instance that the Latiar was not the only cult that the Latin
peoples shared in common. Festivals of the same kind were also cele-
brated at Lavinium, an important religious centre and the home of the
Penates (ILS 5004). There was a major common shrine in the grove of
Diana at Aricia (see below, p. 272), and from casual references in the
literary sources we hear of others near Tusculum and at Ardea (Pliny,
HN xv1.242; Strabo v.3.5, p. 242C). It is perfectly possible moreover that
there were other common shrines of which we now know nothing.

Archaeological evidence has yielded some further information about
these cult places. For example at Gabii an archaic sanctuary has been
discovered outside the walls of the city, suggesting a cult open to
outsiders.”4 It seems that the common sanctuaries were generally situated
outside the walls of the cities to which they belonged. At Lavinium
(Pratica di Mare) excavations during the last twenty-five years have

2% Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.49.3; Cic. Plane. 23; Schol. Bob. ad loc., p. 128 Hild.; Varro, Ling.
vi.25; Serv. Aen. 1.211; cf. Alfoldi 1965[13], 19-25. 24 Cornell 1980[B315], 85.

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THE LATIN LEAGUE 267

revealed traces of a complex of extra-mural sanctuaries which are prob-
ably to be connected with the federal cults referred to in the written
sources.?5 It is in this context that we can best understand the tradition
that Servius Tullius founded a temple of Diana on the Aventine as a
common shrine for all the Latins (p. 85; 92). Since the Aventine was out-
side the pomerium, the sacred boundary of the city, the Dianium was clearly
an extra-urban sanctuary of the kind that already existed at other places in
Latium. There is no reason to doubt that the cult of Diana was, in fact,
founded by Servius Tullius, although the original sixth-century shrine
was probably not a temple, but an open air sanctuary with an altar (cf.
ILS 4907). The inscription which recorded the founding of the cult still
survived in the time of Augustus.26 The Aventine cult of Diana was
influenced by Greek ideas; the cult image of the zoddess was modelled
on that of Ephesian Artemis — or, rather, on the copy of the Ephesian
Artemis that had been set up shortly before in the Ephesion at Massalia.
Representations on coins of the later Republic confirm the sixth-century
date of the statue of Artemis at Massalia and, by implication, of the
Roman copy.?7

The proliferation of common cults at different sites in Latium does not
at first sight seem compatible with the idea of a united Latin League.
Various attempts have been made to explain this difficulty. One sugges-
tion is that the multiplicity of cult centres was the result of ancient
political conflicts within the league. They would indicate that the leader-
ship of the federation passed in the course of time from one centre to
another, and that each was in turn reduced toa ritual function (‘ad sacra’)
when a new leader emerged to take its place. Thus the hegemony passed
from Alba to Lavinium, then to Aricia, and finally to Rome.?8

The majority view, however, is that the several common shrines were
originally the centres of separate religious federations, each comprising a
number of small local communities within a relatively restricted area.
This notion of small local leagues is thought by some to be corroborated
by Pliny’s list of populi Albenses (see above), which may describe a
federation of small village communities in the immediate vicinity of the
Alban hills.29 Other local leagues would have existed elsewhere in
Latium, with their centres at Lavinium, Ardea and so on. On this
hypothesis it was only at a later stage, and then perhaps only as a

28 Castagnoli et al. 1972{116]; Castagnoli 1977[G373], 460ff; Poucet 1978[B386}, 583-601;
1979[B386], 177-90; Dury-Moyaers 1981{Ez4], 95~162; above, p. 50; Gof.

26 Dion. Hal. Aat. Rom. 1v.26.5. The inscription should probably be identified with the dex arae
Dianae in Aventino (‘statute of the altar of Diana on the Aventine’), which served as the model for all
later sanctuaries of the same kind: CIL x1t.4333 etc.; Mommsen 1887-8[Ag1], 111.614ff.

27 The cult statue: Strabo tv.1.5, p. 180c. The coins: RRC n. 448.3; cf. Ampolo 1970[G343],
200-10; above, Fig. 30. % AlfOldi 1965[13), 236ff. 2% E.g. Bernardi 1964[111], 230ff.

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268 6. ROME AND LATIUM

consequence of the development of a politically conscious federation,
that some of these sacred associations came to embrace all the Latins.3°

One difficulty with this reconstruction is that identifying the peoples
in Pliny’s list is a largely arbitrary exercise. Alternative identifications
have been proposed which would spread the names over a much wider
area.3! But the main objection to these attempts to explain the prolifera-
tion of common cults in Latium is that they are unnecessary. The
difficulty seems in fact to be the result of a misconception — or, rather, of
two distinct but related misconceptions. These are, first, that a league or
federation could only have a single cult centre (membership being
defined by participation in the cult); and secondly that control of a
common cult centre implied political hegemony.

These misconceptions are rooted in the sources. For example, the
tradition assumes that the location of the Latiar on the Alban Mount was
a reflection of the political hegemony once exercised by Alba Longa. A
natural consequence of this assumption is that when the Romans under
Tullus Hostilius destroyed Alba and overran its territory, they not only
took over the supervision of the Latiar but also gained control of a
political federation of Latin states. Similarly our sources take it for
granted that in instituting a common cult of Diana on the Aventine
Servius Tullius was making a bid for political supremacy; when the
Latins agreed to take part in the cult, their acquiescence signified that
they accepted the hegemony of Rome: ‘ea erat confessio caput rerum
Romam esse’ (Livy 1.45.3). But if the Romans had already obtained the
leadership after the defeat of Alba, Servius’ initiative would appear to
have been superfluous. The two accounts are mutually contradictory,
and probably both wrong. Another tradition asserts that Rome’s hege-
mony was established by Tarquinius Superbus. There may well be some
truth in this, but the additional statement that it was Superbus who
founded the cult of Iuppiter Latiaris (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.49) cannot
be accepted; it must also bea consequence of the procrustean notion that
the political and religious associations of the Latins are inseparable.

In fact the evidence seems to point to a variety of different forms of
association among the Latins rather than a single ‘league’ (for which
there is no precise equivalent in Latin). The confusion that surrounds
this subject arises from the fact that both ancient and modern accounts
fail to distinguish properly between different forms of association and
communal activity which functioned independently of one another and
originated in different ways. In the discussion that follows, sacral,
juridical and political aspects of the Latin community will be discussed
separately and in turn.

® Thus, e.g., Sherwin-White 1973[A123], 15; Catalano 1965[Jrs1], 15 ff.
3! E.g. Werner 1963{A134], 440.

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THE LATIN LEAGUE 269

We have already described the religious festivals, celebrated at differ-
ent sites in Latium, in which some or all of the Latin communities took
part. These shared cults should be seen as a relic of the pre-urban period.
The common shrines, which were mostly very ancient, were originally
the sacred places of a tribally organized Latin nation which later, in the
archaic age, came to be divided into politically separate units. The
persistence of the common cult celebrations is the clearest sign of the fact
that, throughout their history, the Latins were conscious of belonging to
an integrated community that transcended the boundaries of the indivi-
dual city states. They shared a common name (the nomen Latinum), a
common sentiment, and a common language. They worshipped the same
gods and had similar political and social institutions. A shared sense of
kinship was expressed in a common myth of origin. The archaeological
record shows moreover that a distinctive form of material culture (the
so-called ‘cultura laziale’) was diffused throughout the region of Latium
Vetus from the period of the Final Bronze Age onwards.

This sense of cultural unity was never completely submerged by the
growth of the city-state, with its exclusive institutions and its distinctive
concept of restricted local citizenship. The reason is that the model of the
city-state was itself only partially adopted by the Latins during the
archaic age. The phenomenon of urbanization occurred in Latium
during thé ‘late orientalizing’ period (c. 630-580 B.c.), certainly at Rome
(p. 36f) and probably at other centres as well, although the process is not
so well attested at sites other than Rome. It was accompanied by a radical
transformation of political and social institutions, a process that is
reflected in the traditional account of the reigns of the last three Roman
kings. The emergence of city-states in Latium was not however the result
of a spontaneous evolution, but rather the revolutionary transformation
of a peripheral native culture brought about by contact with socially
more advanced communities in Etruria and Magna Graecia. The result
was a unique amalgam in which city-state structures were superimposed
upon a substantial residue of pre-urban or ‘pre-political’ institutions.

This simplified model of the development of the city-state in Latium
can help to explain the survival of other communal institutions which
appear to bea legacy of the pre-urban period. In particular it can account
for the body of social and legal privileges that were shared in common by
the Latins and were in historical times defined as specific rights (ura).
These included conubium, the right to contract a legal marriage with a
partner from another Latin community; commercium, the right to deal
with persons from other Latin communities and to make legally binding
contracts (especially important was the right to own real property within
the territory of another Latin state); and the so-called ius migrationis, the
capacity to acquire the citizenship of another Latin state simply by taking
up permanent residence there.

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270 6. ROME AND LATIUM

The origin of these “Latin rights’ is much disputed. It is unlikely that
they were the product of formal diplomatic agreements, although this
view has recently been restated.*2 It is more probable that such institu-
tions as intermarriage and free exchange were characteristic of a society
‘where the concept of the state, with its attendant concept of the fixed
domicile, is not strongly developed’.>3 This is not to say that Latium was
not yet urbanized in the sixth and fifth centuries B.c., but rather that only
a very imperfect model of the city-state had been adopted there. In its
classical Greek form the polis was a closed society which admitted
outsiders to citizen rights only in the most exceptional circumstances. In
particular the right to contract a legal marriage and the right to own land
within the territory of the polis were rigidly confined to persons of
citizen birth. The contrast with Rome could not be more striking; but it is
precisely its divergences from the ideal type of the polis that make Rome
such a distinctive political community.

On the other hand it is probably wrong to seek the origin of the ‘Latin
rights’ in the tribal inheritance of the nomen Latinum. Rather the rights of
conubium, commercium and migratio seem to recall the phenomenon of
horizontal social mobility that characterized Central Italy in the archaic
period (cf. above pp. 81; 261). Two features of this horizontal mobility
need to be stressed here. First it was not confined to any particular ethnic
group, but seems rather to have led to the integration of Etruscans,
Latins, Sabines and others within individual communities. Secondly it
was principally an aristocratic phenomenon. In the orientalizing period
(c. 730-580 B.c.) Central Italy was dominated by aristocratic clans, whose
members led a luxurious way of life and maintained close contacts with
one another through intermarriage and the exchange of gifts.

The horizontal mobility that prevailed at this time was however
matched by a contrasting vertical immobility. That is to say, the aristo-
cracies maintained close links with one another, but held themselves aloof
from the lower classes in their own communities. This state of affairs still
persisted in the fifth century; in Rome we find that the patricians were
willing to admit to their own ranks an aristocratic clan leader, the Sabine
Attius Clausus, and to provide land for him and his dependants (Livy
11.16.4—5), but rigidly excluded fellow citizens who did not belong to the
patriciate. The most extreme example of this policy was their attempt to
introduce a ban on intermarriage between the orders (c. 450 B.C.), even
though they were at the same time willing to practise intermarriage with
aristocracies of other communities.%5

It can be said, therefore, that the ‘Latin rights’ were an institution-

32 Humbert 1978[J184], 81-4. 33 Sherwin-White 1973[A123], 14-15.

* Cf. Cristofani 1975{J32], 132-52.
35 Cf. De Visscher 1952[G569], 411-22 (= 1966, 157-67).

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THE LATIN LEAGUE 271

alized version of the horizontal mobility that characterized the society of
Central Italy in the pre-urban period. Formal interstate agreements such
as the foedus Cassianum, so far from conceding these rights for the first
time, probably curtailed them, by restricting their exercise to the com-
munities that signed the treaty. Thus it came about that the mutual rights
and privileges which Dionysius of Halicarnassus describes as ‘isopolity’
(see below p. 275) were confined to Latium, which became a kind of
closed jural community. This reconstruction would explain the provi-
sion of the Twelve Tables, that a Roman citizen enslaved for debt could
only be sold ‘trans Tiberim peregre’ (‘in foreign territory across the
Tiber’); in other words, the rule that no Roman could become a slave at
Rome in fact applied throughout the territory of the Latin community;
enslavements therefore had to take place ‘across the Tiber’, where the
ager Romanus bordered on Etruscan territory.

We may now turn to the political and military league of Latin states
which we know existed at the end of the sixth century. There are several
reasons for thinking that this Latin League was an artificial phenomenon
that came into being at a relatively late stage and is to be firmly
distinguished from the religious associations and the community of
private rights that we have just been discussing. The principal reason is
the consistent and unequivocal view of our sources that Rome was never
a member of the Latin League. In fact the traditional account maintains
that the League was a political coalition of Latin states formed in
opposition to Rome. Its meetings took place outside Roman territory at
the Grove of Ferentina (Lucus Ferentinae or, more properly, /ucus ad
caput aquae Ferentinae; it was probably in the territory of Aricia), and its
purpose was to organize resistance to the growth of Roman power.

Our sources refer to this league as a going concern early in the regal
period. For example, Dionysius of Halicarnassus describes a war be-
tween the Rome of Tullus Hostilius and an organized coalition of Latin
states meeting at Ferentinum (sic) (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 111.34.3).
Dionysius’ report is probably unhistorical, but it may be an anachronistic
reflection of a situation that actually existed in the later part of the sixth
century. In the time of Tarquinius Superbus we hear of another meeting
at Ferentina, at which a certain Turnus Herdonius of Aricia attempted to
stir up the Latins against Rome (Livy 1.50; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1v.45).
Turnus was however outwitted by Tarquin, who had him killed and then
persuaded the Latins to accept an agreement in which they formally
acknowledged the supremacy of Rome. The treaty entailed joint military
co-operation, with Rome and the Latin League each contributing an

% Twelve Tables 111.5 ap. Gell. NA 20.1.46-7: ‘tertiis autem nundinis capite poenas dabant aut

trans Tiberim peregre venum ibant’ (‘but on the third market day they suffered a capital penalty or
were sold in alien territory across the Tiber’).

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272 6. ROME AND LATIUM

equal number of troops to the allied army, but with the Romans taking
command (Livy 1.52.6).

The details of this traditional account are certainly dubious, and some
scholars have suggested that all of it should be rejected as fiction. But
there is some reason to think that it may have a historical basis. In
particular we may note that it is entirely consistent with the situation
presupposed in the Carthage treaty (above pp. 85; 253f). It is a reason-
able hypothesis that the Latin states which met at Ferentina and which
made the agreement with Tarquin are to be identified with the ‘subjects’
(dr7HKo0t) of Rome mentioned in the treaty. The Greek term would be a
perfectly acceptable way of referring to ‘subject allies’. The treaty
admittedly distinguishes between the ‘subjects’ and ‘those Latins who
are not subjects’, but that does not rule out the interpretation being
offered here, since there is no reason to assume that all Latin cities other
than Rome belonged to the organization centred at Ferentina. In any case
the treaty does not appear to provide evidence of a well-defined category
of ‘non-subjects’, but rather to be covering all possible contingencies by
referring to ‘non-subjects, if any’.37

The fact that the Carthage treaty specifies by name only five of the
subject cities (all of them on the coast) need not rule out the identification
of the subjects with the members of the league of Ferentina. It would
after all have been reasonable to expect that any possible Carthaginian
attack would come from the sea; the draftsmen of the treaty were
therefore content to mention only the coastal cities by name, and to
subsume the inland cities under the general heading of ‘others who are
subject to the Romans’.

When the Latins broke away from Rome after the overthrow of the
Tarquins and the occupation of the city by Porsenna, their resistance was
once again organized from Ferentina, this time under the leadership of
Tusculum and Aricia. This phase of Latin history is documented for us
by two important texts that have a better claim than most to preserve
authentic information about the period. The first is Dionysius’ account
of the life and deeds of Aristodemus, which has already been referred to
(above, p. 258); the second is a fragment of the Elder Cato’s Origines,
which records a joint dedication of a grove of Diana at Aricia by a group
of Latin peoples. The text, which was probably transcribed by Cato from
the original dedicatory inscription, reads as follows:

37 day Sé rives 2} Haw Umijxoor Polybius 11.22.12. A less satisfactory alternative is that the
subjects mentioned in the treaty are to be identified with those Latin communities with which Rome
had concluded individual treaties, on the model of the foedus Gabinum, whether or not they were
members of the league. On this view the non-subjects would be the members of the league of
Ferentina which did not have separate agreements with Rome (p. 524; cf. e.g. Sherwin-White
1973[Ar23], 17ff). On balance this reconstruction seems unnecessary and contrived; moreover all
the indications are that the status of Gabii was unique (see e.g. Varro, Ling. v.33).

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THE LATIN LEAGUE 273

Egerius Baebius of Tusculum, the Latin dictator, dedicated the grove of Diana
in the wood at Aricia. The following peoples took part jointly: Tusculum,
Aricia, Lanuvium, Laurentum (i.e. Lavinium), Cora, Tibur, Pometia, Rutulian
Ardea...

(Cato, Origines, fr. 58 P)

The quotation as we have it tells us nothing about the date or
significance of the event in question, nor is it clear how the passage fitted
into Cato’s narrative. But the majority of scholars are now agreed that the
most suitable context for it would be the period around 500 B.c., when
the Latins were co-ordinating their efforts against Rome.

The grove of Diana mentioned by Cato is not to be identified with the
Lucus Ferentinae, although both were situated in the territory of Aricia.
The Dianium has been located below the north-east edge of the crater of
Lake Nemi; parts of the historic sanctuary were excavated in 1888 and in
the 1920s.38 The grove of Ferentina, on the other hand, was situated near
the course of the later Via Appia, and is probably to be identified with the
Laghetto di Turno (Lacus Turni) near Castel Savelli, about two km. west
of Albano.®9 It follows that the fragment of Cato does not itself record the
formation of the anti-Roman alliance, but rather a parallel religious
event.

It is probable that the cult foundation recorded by Cato represents an
attempt by the Latins to isolate Rome and to set up a new ‘federal’ cult of
Diana which would rival — and perhaps supplant — the shrine on the
Aventine at Rome. It is not really a serious objection to this view that
some sources seem to regard the Arician cult of Diana as older than the
‘Servian’ cult at Rome (e.g. Stat. S#/v. 11.1.5 9ff). The Diana cult at Aricia
was indeed very ancient, and displays a number of primitive features,
most notably the institution of the rex nemorensis, the runaway slave who
obtained his priesthood by killing the former incumbent, and held on to
it for as long as he could defend himself against aspiring successors. Such
features must go back a long way before the sixth century. But the
difficulty can easily be overcome by assuming that the document quoted
by Cato did not record the initial foundation of the cult of Diana at Nemi,
but rather an attempt to give it a new role as a religious centre for the
Latin League.

The list of peoples given in the fragment is probably not complete,
since the grammarian who preserves it for us, Priscian, was only inter-
ested in the form of the name ‘Ardeatis’; it seems that, in conformity with
his usual practice, Priscian cited only enough of the text to convey its
sense, and did not bother to list any names after ‘Ardeatis Rutulus’. It

38 Morpurgo 1903[B364], 297-368; 1931[B365], 237-305.
3% See Ampolo 198:1[I15], 219-33.

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274 6. ROME AND LATIUM

follows that we cannot use the Cato fragment to reconstruct in full the
membership of the Latin League at the end of the sixth century B.c. An
alternative list given by Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Ant. Rom. v.61.3) is
suspect for a number of reasons — it is probably based on erudite
conjecture rather than on genuine records — and cannot safely be used to
supplement Cato.

Cato’s evidence does however confirm the leading part taken by
Tusculum, the city which heads the list and whose representative,
Egerius Baebius, performed the dedication as ‘dictator Latinus’. This
apparently official title is another important element of the text. It can be
argued that the Latin dictator was the chief official of the Latin League,
and that it was as dictator that Octavus Mamilius commanded the
confederate Latin forces at Lake Regillus. It has been suggested however
that Cato may have written ‘dicator’ rather than ‘dictator’;® but it is not
clear how much of a difference this would make, since ‘dicator’ does not
necessarily signify a purely religious official, any more than ‘dictator’
necessarily indicates a secular magistrate. It seems that Egerius Baebius
could have been either the chief magistrate of the Latin League or a
functionary appointed for the specific purpose of dedicating the grove.
Both interpretations are equally possible, but the rest of the evidence,
such as it is, seems to favour the view that the Latin League was
commanded by a dictator.

IV. ROME AND HER ALLIES IN THE FIFTH CENTURY

Such, then, was the federation which was defeated at Lake Regillus and
with which the Romans concluded the Cassian treaty in 493 B.c. The
historicity of the treaty is not in doubt. Sp. Cassius, whose name was
mentioned in the text, was a historical figure who appears three times in
the consular fasti of the period. The terms of the treaty were inscribed on
a bronze pillar which was set up in the Forum and was still there in the
time of Cicero (Bal/b. 53; cf. Livy 11.33.9). In Dionysius of Halicarnassus
we find what purports to be an account of the contents of the treaty (At.
Rom. v1.95). Dionysius’ version is not inherently improbable, and has
every right to be regarded as authentic. Why should Dionysius, or his
source, have fabricated the contents of a treaty if the actual text was
publicly available?

The treaty summarized by Dionysius was a bilateral agreement be-
tween the Romans on the one side and the Latins on the other. This fact is
the strongest single argument for saying that Rome was not at that time,

Rudolph 1955[Jztr], 12. Cf. Sherwin-White 1973[A123], 13.

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ROME AND HER ALLIES 275

and perhaps never had been, a member of the Latin League. The treaty
lays down perpetual peace between the two parties, and a defensive
military alliance by which each will go to the aid of the other if it is
attacked. Each agrees not to assist or give free passage to enemies of the
other. The spoils of any successful campaign are to be shared equally.
Finally, provision is made for the settlement of commercial disputes
between the citizens of different states.

It should be emphasized that Dionysius of Halicarnassus gives only a
brief summary of what must have been a longer document. Elsewhere he
states that the treaty established a relationship of ‘isopolity’ between
Rome and the Latins (Ant. Rom. v1.63.4; vil.53.5 etc.), no doubt a
reference to the ‘Latin rights’ that were discussed in the previous section,
although Dionysius gives no further details. Two brief quotations in
Festus (166 L) may have been taken from the foedus Cassianum, but if so
they belong to a clause not mentioned by Dionysius.

One matter which Dionysius does not refer to, but which was obvi-
ously of great importance, is the question of the organization and
command of the allied army. Some information on this point is, how-
ever, given in a fragment of the antiquarian L. Cincius, quoted by Festus
(s.v. praetor, 276 L). Cincius tells us that, down to the consulship of
P. Decius Mus (340 B.c.), the Latins used to meet at the Grove of
Ferentina to discuss arrangements concerning the command. He goes on
to describe a curious procedure that was put in hand ‘ina year when it was
the responsibility of the Romans to supply a commander for the army by
order of the Latin name’.*!

The meaning of this passage is unfortunately ambiguous. The phrase
“quo anno’ (‘ina year when’) appears to imply that there were years when
the allied supreme commander was not summoned from Rome, and
consequently that the command was exercised in turn by the Romans and
the Latins in alternate years.4? But this interpretation is open to the
objection that there is no hint in the sources of any such system ever
having been put into practice. In the surviving accounts of the fifth and
fourth centuries B.c. there is no reference to a joint army of Romans and
Latins being commanded by anyone other than a Roman. The passage
should therefore be taken to mean that there was a regular annual
meeting of the Latins at Ferentina, but not necessarily a regular annual

41 ‘Itaque quo anno Romanos imperatores ad exercitum mittere oporteret iussu nominis Latini,
conplures nostros in Capitolio a sole oriente auspicis operam dare solitos . . . etc.’

“ Thuse.g. Schwegler 185 3—8[A117], 1.346f, and many others after him. The view of Rosenberg
(t919[] 59), 1478; cf. Alfoldi 1965 [13], 1 19f, et al.), that there was a system of rotation by -vhich all
Latin cities, including Rome, took turns to hold che supreme command, must be ruled out as
incompatible with the text of the foedus Cassianum, and on grounds of general improbability.

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276 6. ROME AND LATIUM

campaign; so that it was only in years when military action was contem-
plated that a commander would be needed — a commander who was
invariably summoned from Rome.

In the years after the foedus Cassianum we can observe the alliance at
work. In the first half of the fifth century Rome and the Latins faced
enemies on all sides, and were seemingly engaged in continuous warfare.
The wars themselves will be examined in more detail in the next section:
here we need only note that the alliance made effective resistance possible
and saved Latium from being overrun. It has indeed been suggested that
it was the pressure of hostile forces on the borders of Latium that
brought Rome and the Latin League together in the first place, and gave
rise to the foedus Cassianum.4

An important development occurred in 486 B.c., when the Hernici
were brought into the alliance. The Hernici were an Italic people, related
(it seems) to the Sabines,*5 who inhabited the strategically vital region of
the Trerus (Sacco) valley. In the absence of any archaeological or
epigraphic material the Hernici are now little more than a name to us.
The only relics are some impressive remains of polygonal walls, dating
from the pre-Roman period, which can still be seen at the chief Hernican
centres: Anagnia, Verulae, Ferentinum and (especially) Aletrium. But we
do not know whether these places were fully developed urban settle-
ments in the fifth century. More ‘probably they were fortified places of
refuge. An isolated reference in Livy (1x.42) suggests that the Hernici
were organized in a league centred at Anagnia.

The alliance with the Hernici was attributed, once again, to Spurius
Cassius, who was consul for a third time in 486 B.c. The Hernici are said
to have been admitted on terms identical to those of the earlier Cassian
treaty (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v111.69.2). It is not clear, however, whether
the result was a tripartite alliance involving the Latins, or whether it was
a separate pact between the Romans and the Hernici. The sources contain
no hint of an agreement between the Hernici and the Latins, who in later
times operated independently of one another in their dealings with
Rome. It is certainly tempting to argue that Rome’s characteristic policy
of making separate bilateral alliances originated at this time. In any event
it seems likely that, as the alliance widened, Rome increasingly became
the focus of its activities; by co-ordinating the efforts of two disparate
sets of allies she inevitably came to control them both. The addition of

43 Mommsen 1887-8[Ag1], 111.619 n. 2. Mommsen proposed to emend the text to read quando in
place of quo anno. “ De Sanctis 1907-64[A3 7], 11.97.

45 Ancient scholars believed that their name derived from the Sabine or Marsic word ‘herna’ =
‘tock’ (Schol. Veron. & Serv. Aer. v11.684; Festus 89 L). Cf. Devoto 1968[J39}, 111.

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ROME AND HER ALLIES 277

the Hernici to the alliance therefore had the paradoxical effect of weaken-
ing the position of the allies and strengthening that of Rome.

We have no reliable information on how the military alliance was
organized in practice. All we can say is that the Latins and Hernici fought
in separate contingents under a unified (Roman) command. But we have
no idea what proportion of the total allied force was contributed by each
of the three partners. Our sources are undecided on this question,
sometimes asserting that each contributed an equal number of troops
(thus e.g. Livy 1.22.4), and sometimes that the allies (Latins and Hernici
together) contributed half the army, the Romans the other half (e.g.
Dion. Hal. Ant. Row. 1x.13.1; 16.3—4; X1.23.2). In fact it is doubtful if
either view was based on any genuine record of what really happened.

The same uncertainty naturally surrounds the question of the division
of the spoils. Here again the sources sometimes state that the spoils were
divided into three equal portions, but on other occasions they imply only
that the Romans generously ‘conceded’ some of the loot to the allies. An
equitable division of the spoils as laid down in the treaties would
presumably have entailed a distribution to the various contingents in
proportion to their size. In any event we can be certain that the division
of the spoils was a matter of great importance. It is not only mentioned
explicitly in the foedus Cassianum; it is also frequently referred to in the
course of the traditional narrative (on this point see further below, p.
293).

Booty consisted of movable goods, livestock, slaves and land. In the
nature of things, the distribution of land acquired by conquest presented
a special problem, particularly where the Latins were concerned, since
the Latin League did not constitute a unitary state, but rather a coalition
of states. Probably the same was true of the Hernici. To divide a single
tract of land into separate allotments belonging to different sovereign
states would have been unthinkable from an administrative point of view
as wellas legally absurd. The problem was overcome by the institution of
the colony. By this simple device conquered land was allotted to colo-
nists who were organized into a new political community. The new
community became an independent sovereign state with its own citizen-
ship and its own territory.

The sources record the foundation of many such colonies during the
fifth and fourth centuries (see Table 5, below). The majority of them
were on the borders of Latium, or indeed at sites that had formerly been
Latin and were now reconquered from the Volsci and Aequi. In most
cases the territories of the colonies did not border on ager Romanus. It was
therefore logical for the new settlements to become members of the Latin
League. As such they were obliged to send contingents to the allied army

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278 6. ROME AND LATIUM

along with the other Latins, but they also possessed full Latin rights.
Consequently they were known as ‘Latin colonies’ (coloniae Latinae). An
exception to this pattern was Ferentinum (not to be confused with the
Grove of Ferentina, above p. 271), which was conquered (or re-
conquered) from the Volsci in 413 B.c. (Livy 1v.51.7-8). Since
Ferentinum was in Hernican territory, it was attached to the Hernican
federation, rather than to the Latin League. The same principle probably
applies to Veii and other places such as Labici which were directly
incorporated into the Roman state (see below p. 281).

It is true that Livy often refers to the new foundations as ‘Roman’
colonies rather than ‘Latin’ ones; he takes it for granted that they were
founded by the Roman state, and he seems to imply that in normal
circumstances the colonists all came from Rome. But since Livy speaks in
exactly the same way about the Latin colonies that were founded in the
third and second centuries B.c., there is no reason to doubt that these
early colonies were coloniae Latinae of the normal kind.

It is important however to point out that the appellation ‘Latin colony’
refers solely to the legal status of the newly founded community, and has
nothing to do with either the ethnic origin of the settlers or the manner in
which it was founded. In any Roman colonial enterprise the largest single
group of settlers would normally have been drawn from Rome. Beloch
cannot have been far wrong in asserting that normally at least 50 per cent
of the colonists would be Romans.” The rest would be taken from the
allies, either Latins or Hernicans or both. The Romans continued to
allow their Italian allies to share in colonial schemes right down to the
time of the Social War (91 B.c.). In this way they fulfilled their treaty
obligations in the matter of sharing the spoils of conquest. But it is typical
of the Rome-centred outlook of the sources that they rarely record the
fact of allied participation, and tend to refer to these shared enterprises as
if they were exclusively Roman. In fact, although the Roman colonists
would invariably be the largest single group of settlers, they might still
constitute a minority of the total population, since many of the early
colonies were established at existing towns, whose surviving inhabitants
were then enrolled in the colony. This is actually recorded as happening
at Antium in 467 B.c., where native Volscians were included together
with Romans, Latins and Hernici (Livy 1.1.7; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom.
IX.59-.2). It is noteworthy that the sources misunderstand this story, and
attempt to explain the presence of allies and native Antiates by suggest-
ing that an insufficient number of Romans volunteered to join the colony

Beloch 1880[J}137]}, 152.

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ROME AND HER ALLIES 279

(incidentally this misunderstanding is a strong argument in favour of the
authenticity of the event).

The inclusion of the existing inhabitants is not in fact particularly
surprising. The alternative would have been to expel, massacre or
enslave them en masse, and it is doubtful whether the Romans and their
allies could have afforded the wastage of manpower that such a course
would entail, whatever they might have felt like doing. The fact that
some colonies are said to have rebelled against Rome can be the more
easily accounted for if we assume that Roman colonists formed only a
minority of the resulting population. Antium is a case in point: within
three years of the founding of the colony it had become disaffected (Livy
111.4), and openly rebelled in 459 (Dion. Hal. Amt. Rom. x.21.4-8).

On the question of how a colony came to be founded, the sources tell
us that the Roman state was responsible for the entire exercise. In recent
years, however, it has become fashionable for scholars to reject this
tradition and to argue instead that the colonies were founded by the Latin
League.*’ This line of argument seems to the present writer to be at best
unhelpful and at worst simply mistaken. The strict constitutional posi-
tion must have been that all matters regarding the distribution of
conquered land had to be decided jointly by Rome and the allies in
consultation. But to say that a colony was founded by Rome is probably
only a technical error. It is most likely that in practice the decisions were
taken by the Romans, and that the consultation of the allies was a
formality. Roman officials were probably always responsible for the
practical tasks of founding the colonies and distributing land. This
conclusion proceeds both from the analogy of the military command and
from the fact that in every case the largest single group of colonists were
Romans. In any event the extreme idea that the Romans took little or no
part in decisions regarding the early colonies is surely inadmissible. As it
happens, on more than one occasion Livy gives us the names of the
commissioners who supervised colonial enterprises — and they are always
Romans. For example the ‘triumvirs’ who led the colony to Ardea in 442
B.c. were Agrippa Menenius Lanatus, T. Cloelius Siculus, and M.
Aebutius Helva, all prominent members of the senate (Livy 1v.11.5—7).
As R.M. Ogilvie sardonically remarked, ‘we are not compelled to
disbelieve either the notice or the names’.*8

The record of colonization during the fifth and early fourth centuries
can be tabulated as follows:

“7 Following Rosenberg 1919{I59], 161ff, and Salmon 1933[I62], 93ff, 123ff. Contra Gelzer
1924[I30], 958-9. Ogilvie 1965[B129], 549 ad loc.

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280 6. ROME AND LATIUM

Table 5. Early Roman|
Latin colonies with
attributed or probable dates

Fidenae Romulus

Signia Tarquinius Superbus
Circeii Tarquinius Superbus
Cora Tarquinius Superbus

Pometia Tarquinius Superbus
Fidenae* 498 B.c.

Signia* 495
Velitrae 494 (reinforced 492)
Norba 492
Antium 467
Ardea 442
Labici 418
Velitrae* 401
Vitellia 395
Circeii* 393
Satricum 385
Setia 383
Sutrium = 383,
Nepet 383

(* = second recorded foundation)

One point arising from this list calls for brief comment. Under the year
209 B.C. Livy gives a list of all the colonies that had been founded by the
Romans until that date (Livy xxvii.g). As usual Livy calls them Roman
colonies, although they should strictly speaking be termed Latin colonies
(see above). The problem is that Livy’s list, which contains thirty
colonies in all, includes only seven of the early colonies enumerated
above in Table 5, viz. Signia, Norba, Setia, Circeii, Ardea, Sutrium and
Nepet. The rest are ignored.

Livy’s omission of colonies whose foundation he himself had recorded
in his earlier narrative is indeed a difficulty, and has led some scholars to
argue that many of the earlier notices are false. But the omissions can be
more satisfactorily explained on the assumption that the communities in
question no longer had the status of colonies in 209 B.c. Some had
perhaps ceased to exist altogether (e.g. Fidenae, destroyed in 426 B.c.),
while others were incorporated in the Roman state as communities of
Roman citizens after the Latin War of 340-338 B.c. (e.g. Velitrae and
Antium).

It is possible however that some of the earlier colonial settlements
never became Latin colonies. For example, if the conquered land bor-

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SABINES, AEQUI AND VOLSCI 281

dered on the ager Romanus, it may have been simply annexed and assigned
viritim (i.e. in individual allotments) to Roman citizens who were not
formed into a new community but remained citizens and were directly
administered from Rome. This procedure was adopted when Veii was
conquered in 396 B.c., and it may have happened earlier, for example at
Labici in 418, when Livy simply tells us that 1500 colonists were sent out
‘from the city’ (Livy 1v.47.6—7). It is possible, indeed likely, that in these
cases some of the land was assigned to allies in accordance with the
treaties. If so, they will automatically have become Roman citizens on
taking up residence within Roman territory. In the same way it is
probable that Romans and Latins were able to take part in the settlement
of Ferentinum when it was recaptured in 413 and handed over to the
Hernici. It seems that the treaties gave the Latins and Hernici the right to
take part in any programme of colonization that the Romans might
undertake, and that this right continued to be exercised. Strangely
enough we know about this because of an incident involving
Ferentinum; Livy records that some Ferentinates had enrolled as settlers
in a Roman citizen colony in 195 B.c., and had thereby obtained Roman
citizenship (Livy xxxiv.42z.5).

V. THE INCURSIONS OF THE SABINES, AEQUI AND VOLSCI

It has already been explained in an earlier section how the fall of the
Roman monarchy was followed by a brief period of confusion and
turmoil. But in the years that followed the situation gradually stabilized,
and in the 490s a new structure of political relationships seemed to be
emerging in Latium. The Romans were able to regain at least a measure
of the power they had held under the kings. A number of successful
campaigns against the Sabines are recorded in the period 505-500 B.c.
(see below, Table 6); they were followed by a Roman advance into the
region between the Tiber and the Anio. Fidenae and Crustumerium were
taken (and perhaps also Ficulea — although we have no explicit informa-
tion regarding the history of Ficulea in the fifth century).

These gains are reflected in the creation of new local tribes in 495 B.c.
(see above, p. 246). The new tribes must have included the Claudia,
in the district where the Claudian gens was settled after its arrival in
504 B.C. (above, p. 98), and the Clustumina, the former territory of
Crustumerium. At this point Rome’s territory to the north-east of the
city extended as far as the borders of Nomentum; she also controlled the
Via Salaria, which runs along the left bank of the Tiber, almost as far as
the Sabine stronghold of Eretum. Asa result the area embraced within
the ager Romanus will have increased to ¢. 949 km.? (cf. above, Fig. 40,
p- 246). Further expansion at the expense of the Latins was checked by

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282 6. ROME AND LATIUM

the foedus Cassianum of 493. But that agreement itself represented a con-
solidation of Rome’s position in Latium.

As has been mentioned, the formation of the military alliance between
Rome and the Latin League was a response to an external military threat
which became apparent during the 490s. The colonies at Velitrae, Signia
and Norba probably represent an attempt by the alliance to strengthen
the borders of Latium against the threat of hostile invasion.‘ But in spite
of these precautions the newly established stability of Latium was
violently disrupted at the end of the 490s by incursions of the Volsci and
Aequi, who first begin to feature prominently in the traditional narrative
at this time.

We have no way of knowing how or when the Volscians succeeded in
occupying the southern half of Latium. It is certain, however, that for
most of the fifth century they were in control of the Monti Lepini (the hill
country to the west of the Sacco valley), most of the Pomptine plain, and
the whole of the coastal district from Antium to Tarracina which in the
sixth century had been part of the ‘empire’ of Tarquinius Superbus (cf.
above, p. 253). A brief remark in Livy shows that the strongholds of Cora
and Pometia were in their hands by 493 B.c. (1.22.2); Antium was
occupied before 493 (Livy 11.3 3.4), and was shortly followed by Velitrae,
on the southern edge of the Alban massif.

The ethno-linguistic affiliations of the Volscians are problematic.
Onomastic evidence and general probability suggest that they were an
Osco-Sabellian people who hai moved down from the central
Appennines before the end of the sixth century. This is to some extent
confirmed by the fact that another branch of the Volscians was estab-
lished at an early date in the region of the middle Liris valley, around
Sora, Arpinum and Atina (see e.g. Livy x.1). Linguistic evidence is
furnished by the so-called Tabula Veliterna, a four-line bronze inscrip-
tion from Velitrae; dating from the third century B.c. and written in a
language that is usually taken to be Volscian.5° The language of the
inscription has close affinities with Umbrian, and for this reason scholars
generally postulate a ‘northern’ origin for the Volscians, and suppose
that they migrated down the Liris valley from beyond the Fucine Lake
during the course of the sixth century.5!

It is in any case most probable that the appearance of the Volscians in

49 According to the traditional chronology the colonies at Signia (495) and Velitrae (494) were
founded before the foedus Cassianum (493). But the precise dating of events at this period is so
uncertain (cf. above, p. 265 n. 22) that it would be unwise to press the point. On general grounds the
most probable reconstruction is that Signia, Velitrae and Norba were Latin colonies founded jointly
by Rome and the league in the immediate aftermath of the foedus Cassianum.

50 Vetter 1953[J129], no. 222. It is possible that che Tabula Veliterna was not in fact inscribed at
Velitrae in the local dialect, but was brought there as booty from somewhere else at a later period
(thus Crawford 1981[]31], 542). In that case all bets are off. 51 Devoto 1968[J39], 113-14.

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SABINES, AEQUI AND VOLSCI

283

_s« AEQUIAN HILL-FORTS gw
1. Vicovaro
. Roviano?
. Ciciliano

. Canterano

. Bellegra

. Roiate

. Olevano Romano
. Trevi

; |e
Res Land over 1,000 metres 6 .
feel 200 - 1,000 metres Ss E A ws

Foy] Land under 200 metres

SCALE

Map 3 Central Italy in the fifth century B.c.

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284 6. ROME AND LATIUM

the southern part of Latium was the result of a migration from the
interior, and that it was part of a wider movement of peoples which, we
know, affected most of Italy in the fifth century B.c. Our literary sources
report a succession of tribal migrations at this time which resulted in the
spread of the Sabellian peoples and the diffusion of Osco-Umbrian
dialects throughout the central and southern regions of the peninsula.

This process was described in detail by the Elder Cato in his work on
the origins of Italy, which unfortunately does not survive in full. But a
fragment quoted by Dionysius of Halicarnassus tells us that the process
started with the migration of the Sabines from a place near Amiternum
(beneath the western slopes of the Gran Sasso) to their later homeland in
the hills around Reate; from there they sent out further colonies and
founded settlements in the form of ‘unwalled cities’ (Cato, Origines, fr.
50P= Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 11.49).

These migrations resulted from a series of ‘sacred springs’. The sacred
spring (ver sacrum) was a drastic ceremonial remedy for a famine or similar
crisis. In such circumstances all the produce of a given year would be
sacrificed to Mars. The animals were slaughtered, but the children were
spared and designated sacrati. When they reached maturity this genera-
tion of young people would be sent out into the world to fend for
themselves, under a leader who was obliged to follow a wild animal; they
would then settle wherever the animal stopped to rest, and form a new
tribe. This myth accounted for the origin of the Picentes, for example,
who had followed a woodpecker (picus) in their migration down the
Tronto valley to Asculum (Ascoli Piceno) and the Adriatic coast; simi-
larly the Samnite tribe of the Hirpini had followed a wolf (Airpus) in their
southward trek from the Sabine hills. The legend of the origins of Rome
contains similar elements, since Romulus and Remus were envisaged as
leaders of a band of young shepherd warriors living in the wild (p. 58).
The myth corresponds to reality at least in its basic assumption, that the
pressure of overpopulation in a region of poor natural resources was the
primary cause of emigration. The ver sacrum itself probably reflects a
primitive rite of initiation.

The migrations set off a chain reaction, and the shock waves were felt
the length and breadth of the peninsula. In Magna Graecia the effects
were catastrophic, as lapygians, Lucanians and Bruttians pressed down
upon the Greek cities on the coast. The disastrous defeat of Tarentum by
the Iapygians in 473 B.c. was ‘the worst the Greeks have ever suffered’
according to Herodotus (vi1.170). In the south-west, city after city was
overwhelmed by the Lucanians, until by about 400 Velia and Naples
were the only remaining centres of Hellenic culture along the entire
length of the Tyrrhenian coast.

Inland from Naples, Oscan-speaking Samnites occupied Campania

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SABINES, AEQUI AND VOLSCI 285

and formed themselves into a new Italic nation (the ‘Campani’) after
taking over the principal cities. This movement seems to have begun asa
gradual infiltration of Samnite immigrants rather than as an organized
invasion. At Capua the Etruscan inhabitants admitted the newcomers
into the citizen community after an initial period of resistance; but this
gesture did not prevent the Samnites from overthrowing the Etruscan
ruling class in a violent coup one night in 423 B.c. (Livy 1v.37.1).

Returning to Latium, we can see that the incursions of the Sabines,
Aequi and Volsci in the fifth century were local manifestations of this
wider phenomenon, and that they had similar effects on the settlements
in the coastal plain. As we have seen, the Volscians occupied the cities of
southern Latium probably shortly after 500; in the east the cities of
Tibur, Pedum and Praeneste were threatened by the Aequi, a mountain
people who inhabited the upper Anio valley and the surrounding hills.

We know nothing about the language and culture of the Aequi,
although it is a fair presumption that they too were a Sabellian people
speaking an Oscan-type dialect. Once again the archaeological evidence
consists solely of remains of polygonal fortifications that can be seen at a
number of hilltop sites in the Monti Prenestini (see Map 3). The forts
should presumably be equated with the defensive positions (oppida)
whichare referred to in the literary sources (e.g. Livy 11.48.4; x.45; Diod.
xx.101). It was from these mountain fastnesses that the Aequi made their
frequent raids into the Latin plain.

There are good grounds for thinking that Tibur, Pedum and Praeneste
were overrun by the Aequi at the start of the fifth century. Tibur had
taken part in the foundation of the grove of Diana at Aricia (see above, p.
273), but then vanishes from the record until the fourth century.
Praeneste is said to have defected from the Latin League to Rome in 499
B.C. (Livy 1.19.2) — not an impossible occurrence, given that one of the
consuls of 499, C. Veturius, belonged to a clan that had long-standing
connexions with Praeneste52— but that is the last we hear of Praeneste for
the rest of the century. Pedum is likewise missing from the traditional
account of the fifth century, apart from a brief appearance in the saga of
Coriolanus (see below).

The best explanation of these silences is that Tibur, Praeneste and
Pedum had been taken over by the Aequi. This possibility becomes a
virtual certainty when we take account of the fact that in the wars against
the Aequi the principal scene of action was the Algidus pass and the

52 The connexion is established by the inscription ‘vetusia’ (i.e. Veturia) on a silver cup found in
the Tomba Bernardini (early seventh century B.c.; see Civilta del Lazio Primitivo 1976(B306}, 374).
Veturia could have been a Roman lady who married a prince of Praeneste; alternatively one could
suppose that the Veturii had migrated to Rome from Praeneste. Thus Torelli 1967(B265], 38ff and
1981{Jr2z}, 135-6.

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286 6. ROME AND LATIUM

region around Tusculum, which is presented as the most vulnerable of
the Latin cities. This state of affairs would not make sense if the Latins
still controlled Praeneste.

The chief victims of the Volscian and Aequian attacks were therefore
the outlying Latin cities, which protected Roman territory from the
worst effects of enemy action. But in the case of the Sabine incursions it
was Rome that was directly affected. Wars between the Romans and the
Sabines had been going on for centuries. After all, the first event of
Roman history, after the death of Remus, was the rape of the Sabine
women and the consequent war between the husbands and their fathers-
in-law. This legend expresses in the most dramatic form the deeply
rooted belief of the Romans that they were a mixture of Latins and
Sabines. The fact that two later kings, Numa Pompilius and Ancus
Marcius, were Sabines was a further reminder to the Romans that
relations with the Sabines had been characterized by peaceful infiltration
as well as by armed hostility. Many of the noblest Roman families,
including the Valerii and the Postumii, claimed a Sabine origin, and the
undoubtedly historical story of the migration of the Claudii in 504 B.c. is
evidence that the process of integration was still going on in the
republican period. Sporadic warfare between the Romans and the Sa-
bines also continued down to the middle of the fifth century.

How the story of Appius Herdonius fits into the general pattern is not
clear. In 460 B.c. Herdonius, a Sabine nobleman, attempted to take over
Rome by seizing the Capitol with a band of 4000 companions. After a few
days the Romans, with the aid of a force from Tusculum, managed to
dislodge Herdonius, who was killed along with most of his Sabine
followers. The episode, which is certainly genuine, has no parallel in the
tradition. It could perhaps represent a putsch by a group of under-
privileged immigrants (they are presented as clients in Dionysius of
Halicarnassus Ant. Rom. x.14—-17, and as slaves and exiles in Livy 111.
15-18); it may be that Herdonius and his band of conspirators failed
where the Samnites at Capua later succeeded. But there can be no
certainty about the incident, which remains a mystery.*3

The wars against the mountain tribes in the early part of the fifth
century had a disastrous effect on the economic and cultural life of Rome
and the Latins. This point is not simply an a priori inference from the fact
that half of Latium fell into enemy hands; it is also confirmed by clear
evidence of an economic recession in Rome in the fifth century. As we
have seen (above, pp. 75f; 2s5of), the archaeological evidence shows that
Rome was a prosperous and rapidly expanding community in the sixth
century. The fifth century, by contrast, is a dark age. At the time of

53 See Capozza 1966[G28], 37ff.

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SABINES, AEQUI AND VOLSCI 287

writing (1983), it is still true to say that the period after ¢. 475 has yielded
virtually no distinctive archaeological material from Rome, with the
exception of a few stone sarcophagi and some modest quantities of
imported fine pottery.>4 In fact the import of Attic pottery fell off
dramatically in the fifth century as compared with the sixth; a recent
study has demonstrated that although a general reduction in the level of
Attic imports can be observed in the Etruscan cities too, the decline was
much more drastic in Rome than in Etruria.55

This archaeological argument, which is admittedly an argument from
silence, can be supported by other evidence. For example, our sources
record the dedication of several major temples in the first years of the
Republic. Apart from the great temple of Capitoline Iuppiter (509 B.c.),
they include those of Saturn (497), Mercury (495), Ceres (493), and
Castor (484). But after 484 the tradition, which is normally meticulous in
registering details of this kind, has no further record of any temple
dedications until that of Apollo in 433. We are given no explanation of
this pattern in the sources, but it is a reasonable conjecture that temple
construction was normally financed by booty (as the tradition makes
clear in the case of the Capitoline temple), and that no temple construc-
tions took place after the 490s because the Romans were no longer
engaged in successful and lucrative warfare.

Taken together with the archaeological evidence (or lack of it), the
record of temple foundations appears to support the idea of an economic
decline. On that assumption it would be reasonable to regard the political
and social upheavals, famines and epidemics, which are such a marked
feature of the Roman Republic’s domestic history in the fifth century, as
direct or indirect consequences of this recession.

Historians traditionally, and rightly, attribute Rome’s difficulties in
this period to the military reverses she suffered at the hands of the
invading highlanders. The most serious of these setbacks occurred in the
yeats 490-488 B.c., when the Volscians, led by the Roman renegade Cn.
Marcius Coriolanus, invaded Latin territory in two devastating annual
campaigns. Capturing one city after another, Coriolanus’ forces ad-
vanced as far as the Fossae Cluiliae on the outskirts of Rome (see above
p. 84). In the traditional story, of which Livy gives the most moving —
and the least accurate — version (11.36—41), the city was saved only by the
entreaties of Coriolanus’ wife and mother, who persuaded him to turn
back.

The Coriolanus episode was a popular legend, celebrated in poetry and
song for centuries afterwards (cf. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. vut.62.3). Its
historical credentials are naturally suspect, and it has been criticized from

54 Ryberg 1940[Bgoz], 5 1ff, cf. Colonna 1977[B312], 131ff. 55 Meyer 1980[Gi12], 47ff.

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288 6. ROME AND LATIUM

almost every point of view.°¢ But in spite of many unmistakable signs of
late literary embellishment (for example the attempt to assimilate Corio-
lanus to Themistocles), there is no doubt — at least in the mind of the
present writer — that the basic elements belong to a long-established oral
tradition. A notable feature, characteristic of epic tales, is the emphasis
on topographical details, and especially the catalogues of obscure place
names that occur in the narrative of Coriolanus’ victorious campaigns. In
his first march he took Tolerium, Bola, Labici, Pedum, Corbio and
Bovillae, and in his second Longula, Satricum, Setia, Pollusca, Corioli
and Mugilla (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. vit. 14-36; Livy 11.39 conflates the
two campaigns into one). It has been rightly remarked that the narrative
of the famous march reveals vestiges of a ‘village system’ that had long
since disappeared in the historical period.5”

Leaving aside the romantic details, we can reasonably Sens that the
story reflects a genuine popular memory of a time when the Volscians
overran most of Latium and threatened the very existence of Rome. The
chronology is however very insecure, since none of the leading persons
in the story appears in the consular fasti; but the Romans’ belief that the
events took place in the early years of the fifth century is probably correct
in general terms.

The Volscian wars continued intermittently throughout the fifth
century. Their raids into Latin territory either alternated, or coincided,
with those of the Aequi. During the period from ¢. 494 toc. 455 a Roman
campaign against one or other, or both, of these peoples is recorded
virtually every year; after the middle of the fifth century, the record
becomes more sporadic (see below, p. 293). The spectacular successes of
the Volscians under Coriolanus were never repeated, as far as we know,
although occasionally we hear of armies of Aequi and Volsci advancing
right up to the gates of Rome (e.g. Livy 111.66.5 — 446 B.c.).

The most memorable episode of the Aequian wars is the story of L.
Quinctius Cincinnatus, who, during an emergency in 458 B.C., was
summoned from the plough to assume the dictatorship. Within fifteen
days Cincinnatus had assembled an army, marched against the Aequi
(who were besieging a consular army encamped at the Algidus), defeated
them, triumphed, laid down his office, and returned to his ploughing. It
must be admitted, however, that this exemplary story tells us more about
the moralizing ideology of the later Roman elite than it does about the
military history of the fifth century B.c. Even if Cincinnatus was a
historical character (as he probably was), the supposedly crushing vic-
tory of 458 B.c. is more than a little suspect, especially as the Aequi came
back the following year, and again in 455.

56 Most notably by Mommsen 1870[I45], 1-26. But see De Sanctis 1907—-64[A37], 11.103ff.
57 Sherwin-White 1973[A123], 8-9.

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SABINES, AEQUI AND VOLSCI 289

On the other hand, the story of a major Roman victory over the Aequi
and Volsci at the Algidus in 431 B.c. (Livy tv.28—9) has more right to be
regarded as historically authentic. This account shares certain features in
common with the saga of Coriolanus and the surviving descriptions of
the battle of Lake Regillus. These narratives are exceptional in that they
are embroidered with a wealth of incidental detail that is qualitatively
different from the transparent rhetoric that we find elsewhere. A particu-
lar feature of the story of the battle of the Algidus (and of that of Lake
Regillus) is the record of the names and exploits of individual combatants
on both sides. This feature, which gives the battle descriptions an ‘epic’
character, is not due in the first instance to Livy (although he exploits it to
the full), but is rather a sign that the events had been celebrated in popular
memory for centuries, and had perhaps formed the subjects of those
historical ballads that were wistfully recalled by the Elder Cato.%8

But such episodes are exceptional. For the most part the literary
tradition consists of a vacuous and insipid narrative of annual campaigns
of which the most we can say is that they probably took place. The
accompanying details that we find in Livy and Dionysius of
Halicarnassus are transparently rhetorical exercises and are not taken
seriously by anyone. But it is obviously an important question whether
the basic structure — the bare record of events, stripped of all rhetorical
embellishment — is soundly based and derived from an authentic
tradition.

Alleged Roman successes form the most dubious category of material.
It seems likely enough that the annalists sometimes took the opportunity
to exaggerate minor successes, and to turn indecisive engagements into
victories. Under the year 446 B.c. Livy reports a major victory over the
Aequi and Volsci, but adds that, as far as he could discover, the
victorious consuls did not go on to celebrate a triumph, a fact which he
then attempts — unconvincingly — to explain (Livy 111.70.14—15). But it is
worth noting that as a general rule major Roman victories are compara-
tively rare in the tradition as we have it. This point can be illustrated by
the record of Roman triumphs between the overthrow of the kings and
the Gallic Sack (which are listed in Table 6).5° The list reveals the
comparative infrequency of triumphs during this period. In the middle
Republic triumphs were held, on average, in two out of every three
years,° and they were especially common at the time when the first
Roman histories were being written — that is, in the late third and early

58 Cato, Orig. fr.118P; cf. Cic. Tase. 1.2.3; Brat. 75. See Momigliano 195 7[B111], 104-14 (= id.
Secondo Contributo 69-88); above, p. 88f.

59 Information taken from Degrassi 1947[D7}, 535 ff.

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290

B.C.
$09
$95
$95
$04
$03
$03
go2
499 (or 496)
494
487
487
486
475
474
468
462
462
459
459
458
449
449
443
437
431
428
426
421
410
396
392
392
390
389
385
380

second centuries B.c. By contrast, only twenty-two triumphs (and ova-
tions) are registered for the whole of the fifth century; this must suggest
that the record is relatively free from contamination, and that it was not
simply a fraudulent projection into the remote past of the conditions of

6. ROME AND LATIUM

Table 6. Roman triumphs 509-368 B.C.

Triumpbator

P. Valerius Poplicola

M. Valerius Volusus

P. Postumius Tubertus

P. Valerius Poplicola II

P. Postumius Tubertus (ovatio)
Agrippa Menenius Lanatus
Sp. Cassius Vicellinus

A. Postumius Albus

M’. Valerius Maximus

T. Siccius Sabinus

C. Aquillius Tuscus (ovatio)
Sp. Cassius Vicellinus II

P. Valerius Poplicola

A. Manlius Vulso (ovatio)

T. Quinctius Capitolinus

L. Lucretius Tricipitinus

T. Veturius Geminus Cicurinus (ovatio)
Q. Fabius Vibulanus

L. Cornelius Maluginensis

L. Quinctius Cincinnatus

L. Valerius Potitus

M. Horatius Barbatus

M. Geganius Macerinus

M. Valerius Maximus

A. Postumius Tubertus

A. Cornelius Cossus

Mam. Aemilius Mamercinus
N. Fabius Vibulanus (ovatio)
C. Valerius Potitus Volusus (ovatio)
M. Furius Camillus

L. Valerius Potitus

M. Manlius Capitolinus (ovetio)
M. Furius Camillus IT

M. Furius Camillus III

A. Cornelius Cossus

T. Quinctius Cincinnatus Capitolinus

the middle Republic.

Whatever later generations of Romans might have wanted to believe
about the heroic achievements of their ancestors, the fact is that they did

Defeated enemy

Veii and Tarquinii
Sabines

Sabines

Sabines and Veii
Sabines

Sabines

Latins

Sabines and Medullini
Volsci

Hernici

Volsci and Hernici
Sabines and Veii
Veii

Volsci Antiates
Aequi and Volsci
Aequi and Volsci
Aequi and Volsci
Volsci Antiates
Aequi

Aequi

Sabines

Volsci

Veii, Falerii and Fidenae
Volsci and Aequi
Veii

Veii and Fidenae
Aequi

Aequi

Veii

Aequi

Gauls

Volsci, Aequi and Etruscans

Volsci
Praenestini

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SABINES, AEQUI AND VOLSCI 291

not succeed in effacing the dismal memory of the fifth century as a period
of hardship and adversity. Indeed the sources frequently record Roman
defeats (e.g. against the Volsci in 484: Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Azt.
Rom. vu11.84-6; and 478: Livy 11.58—60). It is clear that Livy for one found
these defeats embarrassing, and did his best to minimize them. He tried
to find mitigating circumstances, and he used diversionary tactics, for
example by highlighting individual acts of Roman heroism. An obvious
instance of the use of this technique is the story of Sex. Tampanius, a
cavalry commander who distinguished himself at the disastrous battle of
Verrugo in 423 B.c. (Livy 1v.38). The clear inference to be drawn from
such passages is that Roman historians, so far from scribbling whatever
they pleased, accepted the traditional facts for what they were and tried to
make the best of them.

But the most striking feature of the surviving narratives is that most of
the annual campaigns are presented neither as victories nor as defeats,
but as indecisive and often uneventful raiding expeditions. This seems an
unlikely pattern for an annalist to invent; it is much more likely that it
represents the true character of actual events.

We should note that the warfare of the fifth century was a very
different kind of phenomenon from the organized military activity of the
Roman state in the later Republic. The annalists clearly failed to under-
stand the difference, and in describing the wars of the early Republic in
terms of later concepts and practices they inevitably distorted the facts. If
the wars of the fifth century are conceived as full-scale military oper-
ations, then it does indeed become difficult to explain their frequency and
regularity over such a long period of time.

Livy, an honest and intelligent man, was himself puzzled by the
apparent capacity of the Aequi and Volsci to field armies year after year in
spite of continual defeats (vi1.12.2). He offered a variety of possible
explanations: several different branches of the Aequi and Volsci may
have been involved at various times; Central Italy could have been more
densely populated in the fifth century; and so on. But the true explana-
tion is surely that what was happening was not warfare as Livy under-
stood it, but rather a much less intensive pattern of raiding and
skirmishing. The scale of operations was probably small, pitched battles
few and far between, with casualties relatively light.

It is obvious that a political or Clausewitzian model of war cannot
easily be imposed on the archaic world of Central Italy in the fifth
century. Instead we find an indistinct pattern of annual razzias. Warfare
is recorded regularly, but there is no continuity from year to year. One
year the Volsci might attack, the next year the Aequi, the next both
together — in a seemingly random pattern. On the Roman side, each
year’s campaign was treated as an entirely self-contained affair. New

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292 6. ROME AND LATIUM

consuls would take office, and a new army would be enrolled. Every
spring and autumn special rituals were performed to mark the beginning
and end of the campaigning season. This rhythmic pattern of annual
warmongering was certainly not confined to Rome, but was character-
istic of Italic society in general during the archaic age.

The legalistic conception of war as a political phenomenon presup-
poses the full development of the state. But in the warfare of the fifth
century there was often no clear distinction between the actions of states
and those of private individuals and groups. Much of the recorded
warlike activity of this period involved mysterious bands of warriors
who accompanied individual leaders as clients or ‘companions’, and
functioned as private armies.®! Not surprisingly the literary sources do
not properly explain the role of these bands or ‘conspiracies’, but they
provide ample evidence of their activities, for example the incident of
Appius Herdonius (above, p. 286), the migration of the Claudii (above
p- 281), and the private war of the Fabii against Veii (below p. 297). The
phenomenon is now attested by a contemporary document, the recently
discovered inscription from Satricum, which records a dedication to
Mars by the ‘companions’ (soda/es) of Publius Valerius. These private
‘conspiracies’ are analogous to the armies of Volscians and Samnites that
were levied by means of /eges sacratae. A lex sacrata was an ancient Italic
rite which bound the soldiers to follow their leaders to the death (Livy
IV.26.2; VII.41.45 IX.39.5; X.38.2-12). The milites sacrati recall the bands of
young men sent out in consequence of a ver sacrum. The myth of the ver
sacrum may well reflect a primitive pattern of initiation by which young
men who had reached a certain age were segregated from the rest of the
tribe and sent away to fend for themselves by raiding and pillaging. It is
certainly possible that some of the raiding parties which entered Latium
during the fifth century were in fact semi-autonomous marginal groups
of this kind.

It follows that in Central Italy in the fifth century there was little
difference in practice between warfare and brigandage — a fact acknowl-
edged by Livy, who frequently speaks of periods in which there was
‘neither peace nor war’ (e.g. Livy 1.21.1; 26.1; etc.). At all events the
rationale behind these wars was always the same. They were predatory
raids by highland peoples upon the relatively prosperous and advanced
settlements on the plain. The notion of the ‘just war’ (p. 384), and the
traditional claim that Rome’s wars were fought in retaliation against
external aggressors, probably derived from the experiences of the fifth
century. This interpretation is borne out by the fact that the fetial

61 For this phenomenon in the sixth century cf. p. 97f.
82 Versnel 1982(B268], 199; above, p. 97.

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SABINES, AEQUI AND VOLSCI 293

procedure, the ritual performance by which wars were formally declared,
was centred around the rerum repetitio, a demand for the return of stolen
property; the expression res repetundae should certainly be taken in this
literal sense, which it still retained in the /eges repetundarum of the later
Republic.6> The rerum repetitio also underlines the crude economic
character of fifth-century warfare. The principal objective was always the
acquisition of booty. The capture of large quantities of spoils is referred
to again and again in the traditional accounts of the campaigns, and the
importance of this feature is confirmed by the explicit provisions in the
foedus Cassianum. The expectation that in the normal course of events
booty would be obtained from any successful military effort is a striking
feature of ancient treaties, and is a revealing indication of contemporary
mental attitudes to warfare.

We may conclude this discussion with two brief quotations from Livy
and Dionysius of Halicarnassus. They describe a campaign that sup-
posedly took place in 479 B.c., which is chosen as a typical example.
Comment is unnecessary: between them these two passages provide a
model of the kind of warfare that was endemic in Central Italy in the fifth
century, and which left many traces in later Roman practice. Although
later Roman warmongering was far more organized and sophisticated,
the idea of war as an annual performance witha crude economic function
was never effaced from the Roman mind. It was a crucial element in the
development of Roman imperialism. The two passages are as follows:

Caeso was commissioned to deal with the situation in Latium, where raids by the
Aequi were causing trouble. He marched thither with a body of troops, and then
crossed into Aequian territory to carry out reprisals. The Aequians withdrew
inside the defences of their various strongholds (oppida), and no action of any
note was fought.

(Livy 11.48.4)
The consuls, having drawn lots for the armies, took the field, Fabius against the
Aequi, who were plundering the fields of the Latins, and Verginius against the
Veientines. The Aequi, when they learned that an army was going to come
against them, hastily evacuated the enemy’s country and returned to their own
cities; and after that they permitted their own territory to be ravaged, so that the
consul possessed himself at the first blow of large amounts of money, many

slaves, and much booty of all sorts.
(Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. x.14.1-2)

This pattern of raiding and counter-raiding seems to have diminished
considerably after the middle of the fifth century. The Sabines disappear
from the record after 449 B.c., and attacks by the Aequi and Volsci are
reported far less frequently. In the period of thirty-two years between

63 Sherwin-White, JRS 72 (1982), 28. % Garlan 1972[Gs91], sof = 1975, 76f.

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294 6. ROME AND LATIUM

442 and 411 B.C., campaigns against the Volsci are recorded in only three
years (431, 423 and 413), and against the Aequi in only four (431, 421, 418
and 414). The most likely explanation is that the Aequi and Volsci
gradually developed a more settled mode of existence, rather than that
the record is defective in some way. This deduction is based on the fact
that the sources continue to report other ‘routine’ events, such as plagues
and grain shortages, during the period in question. They also give full
accounts of wars against the Etruscan city of Veii, and it is to these wars
that we must now turn.

VI. VEII AND ROME’S OFFENSIVE

Situated on a rocky plateau some 15 km. to the north of Rome, Veii was
the nearest of the Etruscan cities to the borders of Latium. Rome and Veii
shared a common border along the right bank of the Tiber, and it is
hardly surprising that the sources should trace their rivalry back to the
very beginning of Roman history. The first war is said to have occurred
under Romulus, who captured and colonized Fidenae and gained control
of the district known as the Septem Pagi on the right bank, as well as the
salt beds to the north of the river mouth. The legend may be based on
nothing more than the fact that the Septem Pagi were part of the tribe
Romilia; but in any event it is likely that during the regal period Rome
gained possession of a strip of territory on the right bank stretching from
what is now the Vatican to the coast.

Intermittent wars between Rome and Veii must have occurred under
the monarchy, even though we cannot reconstruct them in detail from
the unreliable narratives of Livy and Dionysius of Halicarnassus. The
evidence for the three major conflicts that occurred during the republi-
can period is however much more secure. The three encounters were
well-defined events which we may legitimately call the First, Second and
Third Veientine wars. This fact in itself clearly differentiates the struggle
between Rome and Veii from the more primitive pattern of organized
brigandage that characterized the Aequian and Volscian wars. The
difference arises simply from the fact that Veii, like Rome but in contrast
to the Aequi and Volsci, was a well developed and centralized city-state.

During the last fifty years our knowledge of the city of Veii and its
territory has been greatly increased by archaeological finds, which have
resulted partly from excavations and partly from the extensive field
survey of South Etruria (including much of the ager Veientanus) that was
carried out by the British School at Rome in the years between 1950 and
1974.65 In the present context it will be sufficient merely to give a brief

6 Potter 1979[B385], 1-18.

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VEII AND ROME’S OFFENSIVE 295

summary of the main historical conclusions that have emerged from this
work.

During the sixth century Veii was a flourishing urban centre. Not
much is known about the actual layout of the town, although the
evidence of surface finds suggests a fairly open pattern of loosely
scattered buildings running the whole length of the plateau from the
north-west gate to the sanctuary at Piazza d’Armi (see Fig. 45). There
was probably some concentration around the point where the major
roads converged, which formed the centre of the later Roman town, but
this has yet to be confirmed by excavation. The sanctuary sites at
Portonaccio, Campetti and Piazza d’Armi have been more systematically
explored, and it is clear that at each of them substantial buildings were
erected during the sixth century. The famous acroterial statues from the
Portonaccio temple are an indication of the wealth of the city and of its
high level of artistic achievement. It is not fanciful to attribute the
Portonaccio terracottas to the school of Vulca, the Veientine sculptor
who was summoned to Rome by Tarquinius Priscus to make the statues
for the Capitoline temple.

Veii controlled an extensive and fertile territory, measuring some
562 km.2.66 Field surveys have revealed an even and relatively dense
pattern of rural settlement in the sixth and fifth centuries, indicating that
most of the land was under cultivation or grazing (Fig. 37). Its produc-
tive capacity was greatly improved by the elaborate system of drainage
tunnels (cuniculi) which are common in the ager Veientanus, the majority of
them probably dating from the fifth century. The territory of Veii was
also served by a network of carefully engineered roads which were
probably constructed during the seventh and sixth centuries and are in
any case of pre-Roman date. The roads facilitated the movement not only
ofrural produce into the city, but also of objects of long-distance trade on
which Veii’s prosperity must have been largely based. An important
recent study, which has provided much of the information for the above
summary, has concluded that ‘both roads and drainage schemes quite
clearly reflect the control and organization of a major city, setting its
territorium in order’.®7

The wars between Rome and Veii in the fifth century were organized
conflicts between developed states, confined to three well-defined and
relatively brief bouts of fighting, separated by periods of peace guaran-
teed by treaty (indutiae). As befits their character, the wars arose from a
complex variety of economic and political causes, and the two sides had
long-term objectives that went beyond the mere acquisition of booty —
although raiding naturally went on during the course of the fighting (e.g.
Livy 11.48.5—6).

% Beloch 1926[Atz], 620. Porter 1979[B385], 87.

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296

Grotta4
Gramiccia

Portonaccio
temple’

Vaile la*
Fata

6. ROME AND LATIUM

4 Villanovan cemetery

@ Villanovan village

Quattro
4Fontanili

Campana tombe

Vacchereccid

nain area of
Roman town

an city wall

Fig. 45. The Etruscan and Roman town of Veii (Source: Ward Perkins 1961 [B421)).

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VEII AND ROME’S OFFENSIVE 297

The economic prosperity of both Rome and Veii depended to a large
extent on their control of major natural lines of communication. Traffic
passing along the western side of Italy from north to south could go
either through Rome or through the territory of Veii, crossing the Tiber
at Fidenae or Lucus Feroniae. But the rivalry between the two cities arose
from their attempts to control the routes along the Tiber valley from the
coast to the interior. It seems that the Veientines could threaten Rome’s
control of the left bank by holding a bridgehead at Fidenae; while Rome,
by occupying the right bank, could cut off the Veientines’ access to the
coast and the salt beds at the mouth of the river. It is not therefore
surprising that in the wars between them the principal objective of the
Romans should have been to gain permanent control of Fidenae, which
changed hands frequently in the course of the fifth century, while the
Veientines concentrated their efforts against the Roman possessions on
the right bank.

Of the First Veientine War (483—474 B.c.) the most we can say for
certain is that the Veientines had the best of it. The sources record a
Roman victory at a pitched battle in 480, the details of which are plausible
but possibly imaginary.®8 In any event it did not stop the Veientines from
advancing into Roman territory and occupying a fortified post on the
Janiculum. It was in an attempt to counter this move that the Fabian clan,
accompanied only by their own clients and ‘companions’, marched out in
479 B.c. to occupy a small frontier post on the river Cremera. Two years
later they suffered a catastrophic defeat in which the entire clan, 306
persons in all, was wiped out, with the exception of a single youth who
escaped to keep alive the name of the Fabil.

Although later tradition embellished this tale with details taken from
the nearly contemporary episode of the 300 Spartans at Thermopylae, its
basic historicity cannot be seriously questioned. The story is obviously
connected with the fact that the Fabian tribe was situated on the border of
the ager Veientanus, which was marked by the river Cremera. The war of
the Fabii was therefore fought in defence of their own private interests.
The incident represents one of the last vestiges of an archaic form of
social organization which was probably already in an advanced state of
obsolescence. Finally we should note that in the years from 485 to 479
B.C. one of the annual consuls was invariably a Fabius; but after 479 the
Fabii disappear from the fasti until 467, when the supreme office was held
by Q. Fabius Vibulanus, the survivor of the Cremera.

The truce that was made in 474 left the Veientines firmly in possession
of Fidenae, which they must already have controlled before the Cremera
disaster.6 Thus Fidenae became the focus of the Second Veientine War

6 A matter of opinion. I prefer to trust the intuition of De Sanctis 1907-64{A37], 11.120.
® Cf. De Sanctis 1907-64{A}37], 11.122.

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298 6. ROME AND LATIUM

which broke out in 437 B.c. when four Roman ambassadors were
murdered on the orders of Lars Tolumnius, the tyrant of Veii. Another
memorable and certainly authentic event of this conflict was the battle
in which Aulus Cornelius Cossus killed the Veientine leader Lars
Tolumnius in single combat. For this he was awarded the spolia opima
(p. 168), a distinction which had previously been achieved only by
Romulus. The inscribed linen corslet which Cossus dedicated in the
temple of Iuppiter Feretrius was — notoriously ~ still there in the time of
Augustus, when it became the object of a political controversy (Livy
Iv.20.5-11). Shortly afterwards (435) Fidenae was besieged, and cap-
tured when Roman soldiers entered the citadel by means of a tunnel.

According to Livy, Fidenae later rebelled again, only to be recaptured
and destroyed in 426 (Livy 1v.31-5). It is not impossible that Fidenae
should have changed sides yet again after 435, and that there really were
two wars; but in this instance a strong case can be made for saying that the
tradition has mistakenly recorded the same events twice. This is a highly
complex and technical problem, which largely turns on the question of
whether or not Cornelius Cossus won the spolia opima during his consul-
ship (as the Emperor Augustus maintained), in which case the event will
have to be dated to 428 B.c., rather than to 437, when Cossus was military
tribune. However this matter is resolved, the final outcome was that
Rome had established a permanent hold on Fidenae by 426 and was
poised to take the offensive.

In the Third Veientine War (traditionally 405-396 B.c.) the Romans
took the initiative and launched a full-scale attack on the city of Veii
itself. The siege that ensued is said to have lasted for ten years; it ended
with the capture of the city by the dictator M. Furius Camillus. The bare
facts — the fall of Veii in 396 B.c. and the subsequent incorporation of its
territory in the ager Romanus — are historically certain and mark the end of
an epoch in Italian history. But the traditional details of the war, as
recorded by Livy and others, are mostly legendary.

The story of the fall of Veii was elaborated in two distinct ways. First,
the idea of a ten-year siege was obviously modelled on the Greek legend
of the Trojan War, and traces of a superficial attempt to assimilate the
two events are clearly visible in the surviving narratives. Secondly, the
whole account is pervaded by an atmosphere of mysticism and religios-
ity. The story consists of a succession of supernatural happenings. The
end of Veii, predicted in its ‘Books of Fate’ (Livy v.14.4; V.15.11), was the
consequence of a religious offence committed by its king (Livy v.1.4-5).
The fall of the city was portended by a rise in the level of the Alban lake, a
prodigy which the Romans expiated by constructing a drainage tunnel
on the orders of the Delphicoracle. This bizarre story must be connected
in some way with the tradition that the Romans entered Veii by means of

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VEII AND ROME’S OFFENSIVE 299

a tunnel, a motif which itself has a bewildering variety of associations
(the earlier siege of Fidenae, the cuniculi in the countryside around Veii,
etc.). Another legend connected with the tunnel is best told by Livy:

There is an old story that, while the king of Veii was offering sacrifice, a priest
declared that whoever should remove the victim’s entrails would be victorious
in the war. The priest’s words were overheard by some of the Roman soldiers in
the tunnel, who thereupon opened it, snatched the entrails, and carried them to
Camillus.

(Livy v.21.8—9; the sober historian goes on to absolve himself of any responsi-
bility for the story.)

Camillus, the Roman commander, is portrayed as an instrument of
Fate (dux fatalis) carrying outa religious mission. The story ends with the
‘evocation’ of Iuno Regina, the goddess of Veii, who was persuaded to
abandon the city and go over to Rome. Her cult statue was transported —
with miraculous ease —to Rome, where it was installed in a temple on the
Aventine dedicated by Camillus (Livy v.22.3—6).

The mystical quality of the events is reflected in the language of Livy,
whose fifth book is an artfully constructed sermon on the theme of
religious obligation.”° The sanctimoniousness did not however originate
with Livy (as the above quotation about the entrails makes clear), but
was obviously part of the received tradition. It has been suggested that
the whole account was ultimately derived from Etruscan sources, and
that its peculiar mysticism was a characteristic of Etruscan historio-
graphy.’! This is theoretically possible but cannot be certain. Etruscan
historiography is a subject about which we do not, in fact, know
anything.

Some elements of the story turn out on examination to be more
soundly based than might have been expected. For example, the consul-
tation of the Delphic oracle is an elaboration of the historical fact that the
Romans sent a thank-offering to Delphi after their victory. The offering,
a golden bowl, was placed in the treasury of the Massaliots. It was later
stolen and melted down by Onomarchus in the Sacred War, but its base
remained at Delphi for everyone to see (App. I¢a/. fr. 8.3). The tradition is
further confirmed by the story of the Liparan pirate Timasitheus, who
escorted the Roman ships to Delphi and was rewarded by the senate with
a grant of hospitium publicum (p. 313). The memory of this event was
preserved by the descendants of Timasitheus, who were honoured by the
Romans when the Lipara islands were annexed in 252 B.c. (Livy v.28.3;
Diod. xtv.93.3; Plut. Cam. 8.8).

The wars between Rome and Veii illustrate an important fact about

7% Ogilvie 1965(B129], 626.
4 Sordi 1960[J230], 10-16; 177-82; Ogilvie 1965[(B129], 628.

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300 6. ROME AND LATIUM

Etruscan political history, namely the particularism of the individual
cities. The fact that Veii received no significant support from the other
Etruscan cities evidently ran counter to the expectations of the Roman
annalists. In Livy’s account there is an underlying assumption that the
other cities ought to have assisted Veii and would have done so had it not
been for special circumstances, such as the impious behaviour of the
Veientine king at the national games (Livy v.1.3—5). We hear repeatedly
of meetings of the Etruscan ‘League’ at the Fanum Voltumnae (near
Volsinii) at which the assembled delegates of the ‘Twelve Peoples’
refused, for one reason or another, to give aid to Veii (e.g. Livy 1v.24.2;
61.2; V.1.7; 17.6—7).

In‘ fact it is highly questionable whether the federation of twelve
peoples that met at the shrine of Voltumna ever functioned as a political
or military league. There is no historically verified instance in the sources
of an action involving an Etruscan federal army, and many scholars have
supposed that the league of Voltumna was a purely religious association.
On the other hand there is abundant evidence of antagonism and warfare
between the Etruscan cities. This state of affairs is now documented by
the e/ogia Tarquiniensia, Latin inscriptions of the first century a.D. which
refer to events of the history of Tarquinii in the fifth (and perhaps also the
fourth) century B.c.”2 The inscriptions refer to hostile interventions by
magistrates of Tarquinii in the affairs of Caere and Arretium, as well as a
war against the Latins (Fig. 46).

During the wars between Rome and Veii Tarquinii seems, if anything,
to have supported Veii (Livy v.16.4). Clusium on the other hand
remained neutral (Livy v.35.4), while Caere favoured the Romans. Any
suggestion that the wars were part of a continuing racial conflict between
Latins and Etruscans (cf. above pp. 259ff) can therefore be ruled out.

This conclusion is definitively confirmed by the fact that the most
consistent and loyal supporters of Veii were the Capenates and Faliscans.
These peoples, who lived in the region to the north of Veii between the
Tiber and the Lakes of Vico and Bracciano, spoke a dialect of Latin and
were ethnically distinct from the Etruscans. But both politically and
geographically Capena and Falerii belonged to the catchment area of
Veii, and they never failed to give her active support in the struggle
against Rome. After the fall of Veii, the Romans quickly reduced them to
submission (in 395 and 394 respectively).

These events all form part of a new phase in the history of Rome’s
external relations. In the last years of the fifth century there are clear signs
of a more aggressive policy, not only against Veli and its satellites, but
also in southern Latium. In a series of sparse notices, Livy records the

72 Torelli 1975[B266). For the date see Cornell 1978[Bz09]}, 171-2.

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VEII AND ROME’S OFFENSIVE 301

|
|
|
I
|
I
I

|
|

L aa 4

Fig. 46. Fragments of commemorative inscription (‘elogium’) of Aulus Spurinna of Tarquinii
set up in the early imperial period. It records events relating to the expulsion of a king from
Caere, a slave war at Arretium and nine strongholds of (?) the Latins ?). Reconstruction (in
part conjectural) and supplements after Torelli 1975 [B266], tav. tv.

capture of Bola (415 B.c.), Ferentinum (413), Carventum (410) and
Artena (404). These successes were matched by occasional setbacks, but
there can be little doubt about the overall success of the thrust, which had
the effect of driving the Aequi out of the Algidus region and extending
Roman control in the direction of the Sacco valley. In the coastal region
Rome defeated the Volscians at Antium in 408, captured Anxur
(Tarracina) in 406 and colonized Circeii in 393. The details are confused,
but the basic trend is unmistakable.

This change of stance coincides with a reform of the Roman army (the
precise details of which remain obscure) and the introduction of pay
(stipendium) for the troops (Livy Iv.59—G6o; Diod. x1v.16.5). At the same
time the sources first begin to refer to the ¢ributum, a property tax that was
levied in order to meet the cost of military expenditure, and to the
imposition of indemnities on defeated communities, starting with Falerii
in 394 (Livy v.27.15). These innovations are probably connected with a
reform of the centuriate system, and the introduction of graded property
classes in place of the old ‘Servian’ c/assis (above, p. 199f).”

Our knowledge of this period is still pitifully inadequate. But through
the gloom we can dimly discern the outlines of a decaying archaic society
in a state of radical and dynamic transition. The sack of the city by a

% Crawford 1976[Gqz2], 204ff. A curious reference in Livy to the ‘classis’ operating at Fidenae in
426 B.C. (Iv.34.6, completely misunderstood by Livy, who thought the fleet was meant!) seems to
indicate that the Servian system was still in being at that time. Contra Ogilvie 1965[B129], 588-9, ad
loc.

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302 6. ROME AND LATIUM

raiding party of Gauls in 390 B.c. was an unexpected and momentarily
shattering blow, but its long-term effects were negligible. Within a
generation or so Rome emerged even stronger than before. The peoples
of Central Italy would shortly find that the newly refounded city of
Camillus was a far more aggressive and dangerous force than the old city
of Romulus.

VII. THE GALLIC DISASTER

In the summer of 390 B.c.a horde of Celts from the Po valley crossed the
Appennines into northern Etruria. Advancing southwards down the Val
di Chiana they stopped briefly at Clusium, and then pressed on to the
Tiber valley and made for Rome. A Roman army was hastily assembled
and sent against the invaders, but it was routed at the river Allia on 18
July, which for ever after was marked as an unlucky day. The survivors
fled to Veii, leaving Rome at the mercy of the Celts, who entered the
defenceless city a few days later and sacked it. Everything is said to have
been destroyed, with the exception of the Capitol, where a small garrison
held out. The Gauls then departed, either because the Romans paid them
to go away, or because they were driven out by a Roman army formed by
Camillus from the survivors of the Allia.

These basic elements make up one of the most dramatic episodes in
Roman history. That it happened is certain. The Sack was referred to by
Greek writers of the fourth century B.c., including the philosopher
Aristotle (fr. 568 Rose = Plut. Cam. 22.3-4) and the historian
Theopompus (Jac. FGrH 115 F317 = Pliny, HN 11.57); it was the first
event of Roman history to impress itself on the consciousness of the
Greeks. There is almost certainly a sound historical basis for the state-
ment of Polybius (1.6.1) that the Sack occurred in the same year as the
Peace of Antalcidas and the siege of Rhegium by Dionysius I of Syracuse
— that is, in 387 or 386 B.c. It follows that the traditional ‘Varronian’
chronology (which is retained here for convenience) was three or four
years adrift at this point (see below, Chapter 7, p. 347f).

A historical analysis of the catastrophe entails a consideration of three
problems. First, we must look for some explanation of the sudden
appearance of the Gauls. What were they doing in the vicinity of Rome in
390 B.c.? Secondly, we must try to identify and account for some of the
legends that became attached to the event. Thirdly, we must assess the
extent of the disaster, and ask how seriously it damaged the city and
disrupted the lives of its inhabitants. Let us deal with these three
questions in turn.

First, then, why did the Gauls attack Rome? The Gallic invasion of
Italy in 390 B.c. can only be understood against the general background

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THE GALLIC DISASTER 303

of the movement of Celtic peoples into Northern Italy during the
previous centuries. This point was clearly appreciated by Livy, himself a
native of Cisalpina, who devoted two important chapters to a discussion
of the subject (v.34-5). Livy describes a succession of migrations by
different tribes, beginning with the Insubres, who moved into the region
around Milan under the leadership of the legendary Bellovesus in around
Goo B.c. They were followed, in the course of the next two centuries, by
the Cenomani, Libui, Salui, Boii and Lingones. The last group to arrive
were the Senones, who by the start of the fourth century s.c. had
occupied the strip of land along the Adriatic later known as the ager
Gallicus (see Map 4).

It was these same Senones, according to Livy, who crossed the
Appennines and invaded the peninsula in 390. Their aim, he says, was to
find land for settlement. This view is corroborated by other sources
which, although less informative, tell much the same story (e.g. Polyb.
11.17; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. xit.10—-11; Plut. Caw. 15). All of them are
agreed that it was the produce of its land, and especially of its vineyards,
that tempted the Gauls to invade Italy. In the traditional story they were
enticed by a certain Arruns of Clusium, who was hoping that with their
assistance he would be able to take revenge on his wife’s lover. In any
event Clusium was the Gauls’ first destination.”4 Rome became involved
when three Roman ambassadors, all sons of M. Fabius Ambustus, fought
alongside the men of Clusium in a battle against the Gauls and thus
provoked their anger.

There are many difficulties in this account. Livy’s description of the
Celtic occupation of the Po valley has been much criticized, particularly
for its ‘long’ chronology. But it is in fact compatible with the versions of
other sources (which are much less precise on the question of dating).
Although there is no definite archaeological evidence of Celtic migra-
tions into Northern Italy before the fifth century and the beginning of
the La Téne culture, there is equally nothing that tells against Livy’s
scheme. The principal difficulty is that it is not clear exactly how Celts are
to be recognized archaeologically. For example there are close resem-
blances between some burials of the so-called Golasecca culture in
Lombardy and those of the Hallstatt culture beyond the Alps. These
same Golasecca sites during the fifth and fourth centuries contain
increasing amounts of La Téne material, but at no stage is there any
recognizable break in continuity. The most reasonable assumption is that
there was a gradual infiltration of Celtic elements over a period of several
centuries. In the Romagna supposedly Celtic cemeteries have been found

™ Some scholars argue that the role played by Clusium in the events of 390 a.c. is unhistorical:
Wolski 1936[B193], 37-9; Ogilvie 1965[B129], 699-700.

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VY? FAO
ee os
e
re an
; eS

Map 4 The Celts of Northern Italy: fourth and third centuries B.c.

s, 2008

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THE GALLIC DISASTER 305

with material dating from the sixth and fifth centuries, for example at
Casola Valsenio and S. Martino in Gattara (both near Ravenna). But the
‘Celtic’ identification of these finds remains uncertain. Generally speak-
ing it is still true that the arrival of the Celts in Northern Italy cannot yet
be documented by archaeological means.’ More explicit evidence is
provided by the famous grave stelae of Bologna, showing combats
between Etruscan horsemen and naked Celtic warriors, which confirm
Livy’s account of the insecure position of the Etruscan cities of the Po
valley in the years after 400.

Livy’s general picture of the Celtic occupation of Northern Italy may
therefore be more reliable than has sometimes been supposed. Less
certain however is the notion that the Gauls were tempted to move from
the Po plain into peninsular Italy in the hope of finding more productive
land. The tale of Arruns of Clusium was certainly an old tradition (it was
known both to Polybius and to Cato),”6 but its connexion with the Gallic
invasion of 390 B.C. is nonsensical. So too is the traditional explanation of
the attack on Rome. The idea that the Romans were punished for a
breach of the ius gentium by their ambassadors at Clusium is a legalistic
fiction with strong anti-Fabian overtones.

A major inconsistency in the tradition is that the invading force is
clearly envisaged as a war-band — the followers of Brennus (cf. Polyb.
11.17.11; Caes. BGall. vt.15.2 on the importance of these ‘Gefolg-
schaften’) — rather than a mass folk migration in search of land for
settlement. A migrating tribe would not have advanced as faras Rome, at
least not in the first instance: on the other hand, the story makes more
sense if Brennus and his men were a band of warriors who moved into the
Italian peninsula in search of plunder and adventure. Stripped of its
romantic details, the story of Arruns of Clusium would imply that the
Gauls intervened in an internal political struggle in Clusium at the
bidding of one of the warring factions; in other words, they were a
mercenary band, not a migrating tribe. Their route, via Clusium and
Rome, becomes comprehensible if we assume that their ultimate destina-
tion was the Mezzogiorno, since the natural route to Campania and
Magna Graecia was across the Appennines and down the valleys of the
Chiana and Tiber.

Weare specifically told that, a few months after the sack of Rome, the
Gauls enlisted as mercenaries in the service of Dionysius of Syracuse, and
helped him in his wars against the Italiot Greeks (Justin. xx.5.1-6). This
information seems to be confirmed by the report that on their way back

73 Fora succinct account of the problems see Chevallier 1962[J24], 366ff, Barfield 1971{J 7}, 127ff.
On Livy’s account see Mansuelli in I Galli e PItalia 1978[J49}, 71-5.

% Polyb. 11.17.3; and see Walbank 1937-79[B182] ad loc.; Cato, Orig. fr.36P with Peter’s note
ad loc.

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306 6. ROME AND LATIUM

from the South the Gauls were caught and defeated in the ‘Trausian Plain’
(wherever that was) by an Etruscan army from Caere (Diod. xtv.117.7).
Strabo confirms this story, and adds that it was the Caeretans who
recovered the gold which the Romans had paid over to the Gauls (Strabo
V.2.3, p. 220C). This Caeretan victory, not mentioned in the surviving
Roman tradition, almost certainly provided the factual raw materials for
the fabricated story of Camillus’ face-saving victory.

It has been suggested that subsequent Gallic attacks were orchestrated
by Dionysius of Syracuse, whose principal aim was to undermine the
power of Rome’s ally Caere.”’ In 384 the Caeretan port of Pyrgi was
sacked by a Syracusan fleet (Diod. xv.14.3); if Dionysius had organized a
simultaneous attack on Caere from the interior by his Gallic mercenaries,
we should have a plausible context for the battle of the Trausian Plain.
This hypothetical reconstruction cannot be proved, but it certainly
provides a plausible explanation of events that would otherwise be very
hard to understand.

The close friendship between Rome and Caere is presupposed in the
traditional story, which records that the Vestal Virgins and the sacred
objects they looked after were given refuge in Caere. They were escorted
there by a plebeian named Lucius Albinius, who is probably a historical
figure and in any case belongs to the very earliest level of the tradition.
Aristotle apparently wrote that the city was saved by ‘a certain Lucius’,
who is presumably to be identified with Albinius. Aristotle’s statement is
one of the reasons why scholars tend to reject Camillus’ part in the story.
We might add that Camillus is not mentioned by Polybius either.

In the developed legend Camillus was in exile at Ardea when the Gauls
descended (he had been wrongfully accused of mishandling the spoils of
Veii), and was appointed dictator only after the fall of the city. He then
proceeded to forma new army out of the remnants of the old, marched on
Rome and defeated the Gauls in the Forum at the very moment when the
gold was being paid out. It is obvious that this legend was fashioned in an
attempt to compensate for the most humiliating fact of all: the payment
of the ransom. It is said that when the gold was being weighed out the
Romans complained about the weights; whereupon Brennus threw his
sword into the scales with the words ‘vae victis’ (‘woe to the van-
quished’) — an incident which has immortalized the Gallic chief in
contrast to the lifeless figure of Camillus, the most effete of all Rome’s
heroes.

The part played by Camillus in the Gallic saga is demonstrably a late
and artificial accretion. Even the story of his exile may be no more than a
device to dissociate him from the disaster of the Allia. It is not simply that

7 Sordi 1960[J230], 62-72.

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THE GALLIC DISASTER 307

his alleged contribution is implicitly denied by Aristotle and Polybius. It
is equally significant that other traditions existed concerning the depar-
ture of the Gauls and the recovery of the gold. Polybius for instance
maintained that the Gauls voluntarily left the city because they had
received news of an attack on their homeland by the Veneti. The family
of the Livii Drusi claimed on the other hand that the gold was paid, but
then recovered at a later date by their ancestor, who defeated a Gallic
chief in single combat during a campaign in Northern Italy (Suet. Tid.
3.2). Another version, as we have seen, gave the credit to Caere. These
alternative traditions could not have had any currency if the Camillus
story had been either true or an element of the earliest tradition. |

In general, it can be said that the Camillus legend serves to replace the
historical role of Caere, and that he himself is a substitute for the person
of L. Albinius, who is an integral part of an original tradition in which
Caere held the centre of the stage. A second function of Camillus in the
developed narrative is to lead the opposition to a popular proposal to
rebuild the city on the site of Veii. If anything, this story is a reflection of
the tensions that arose concerning the distribution of the conquered
territory of Veli, and of plebeian agitation for a share in its allocation.
This is one of a number of anti-plebeian elements in the story of
Camillus.78

Suspicion attaches also to the figure of M. Manlius Capitolinus, who
supposedly saved the Capitol from capture; it was he who was aroused by
the cackling of the sacred geese just as the Gauls were about to scale the
citadel. This story would certainly have to be rejected if we were to accept
an alternative tradition, of which traces have been detected in the
licerature,’? that the Gauls succeeded in taking the Capitol. Other legend-
ary elements that remain entirely uncertain include the story of the aged
senators who ‘devoted’ themselves and the enemy to the infernal gods,
and then calmly sat around the Forum awaiting death. These and other
stories present a general picture of a catastrophe that was nevertheless
redeemed by individual acts of heroism and piety.

The sources certainly do not attempt to minimize the extent of the
disaster. They report widespread loss of life, total moral collapse and the
physical destruction of the city. There are however good grounds for
thinking that these reports are exaggerated. The Allia was certainly a
rout, but casualties may have been light since we are given to understand
that the Romans ran away at the first encounter. It has been reasonably
suggested that the flight of the soldiers to Veii was not a spontaneous act
arising in the panic of the moment, but part of a pre-arranged plan;® in

7M. Torelli in I Galli e PItalia 1978() 49], 226-8.

79 Ennius, Ann. 227-8 Skutsch; Tacitus, Ann. x1.23; Sil. Pun. 1.525 1v.1soff; vi.555ff. See
Skutsch 1953[J226], 77f; 1978[J227], 93f; 1985(B169], 405-8. 8 Alfaldi 1965[13), 356-7.

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308 6. ROME AND LATIUM

other words the Romans, realizing that their cause was hopeless and that
they would be unable to save the city, evacuated it in advance. This
would be consistent with the story of Albinius and the Vestals.

Most suspicion attaches to the accounts of the destruction of the city.
The traditional idea that everything was destroyed serves as an aetiology
for two things. First, it was advanced as an explanation for the uncer-
tainty of early Roman history; information about the sixth and fifth
centuries was scarce because all the records had been destroyed by the
Gauls (Livy vi.1.2; Plut. Nam. 2). Secondly, it was believed that the
haphazard and unplanned character of the later city resulted from the
haste with which it was rebuilt after the Sack (Livy v.55).

In fact both explanations are fallacious. It is obvious that the haphaz-
ard plan of the city resulted from its gradual development, rather than
from hasty rebuilding. If it had been entirely rebuilt from nothing, one
might rather have expected evidence of deliberate planning. As for the
destruction of the records, what is striking is not that so many ancient
documents, buildings, monuments and relics were destroyed, but rather
that so many of them survived. Some of these.ancient documents and
relics have been discussed in this chapter. The best explanation of all the
evidence is that the Gauls were interested in movable booty, and that
they left most of the monuments and buildings alone. They ransacked the
place, and made off with whatever they could carry. The story that they
had to be bought off with gold is consistent with this interpretation — and
is most probably true.

This conclusion is in line with common sense and is moreover
consistent with the fact that no archaeological trace of the Gallic disaster
has yet been positively identified. The ‘burnt layer’ beneath the second
paving of the Comitium is clear evidence of a destructive fire which was
once thought to have been the work of Brennus; but it has recently been
established that the destruction of the Comitium took place in the sixth
century B.c. and was perhaps part of the same fire that burned down the
Regia and the first temple in the Forum Boarium — evidence of a
widespread upheaval that is perhaps to be connected with the accession
of Servius Tullius.8! In any event the absence of any archaeological
evidence of destruction at the beginning of the fourth century B.c. must
surely support the general conclusion that the physical effects of the Sack
were superficial. But the strongest argument for a ‘minimalist’ interpret-
ation of the Gallic disaster is the speed and vigour of the Roman recovery
in the following years. The story of this recovery forms the subject of the
next chapter.

81 F, Coarelli in I Galli e Italia 1978[J49], 229-30; id. 1977[E92], 181f; 1982[B309].

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CHAPTER 7

THE RECOVERY OF ROME

T. J. CORNELL

I. ROME’S WIDENING HORIZONS

The ancient tradition maintained that Rome had suffered terribly at the
hands of the Gauls, but that the calamity was followed by a miraculous
recovery. We are asked to believe that, with their city in ruins, their
manpower drastically reduced, and their allies in tacit or open revolt, the
Romans were able to restore their former position almost immediately.
Within a year of the Gauls’ departure the city had been completely
rebuilt, and spectacular victories had been won against enemies on all
sides. These extraordinary achievements allegedly owed much to the
inspired leadership of Camillus, who was regarded as a second founder of
Rome.

Modern historians have not allowed this edifying story to pass un-
challenged, however, and are apt to modify it in one of two ways. Either
they accept that the Sack was indeed calamitous, but dismiss the story of
the rapid recovery as fiction; or they accept the basic outline of events in
the years after 390, but minimize the effects of the Sack. Both opinions
have points in their favour. In support of the former it has been argued
that the invention of compensating victories in the aftermath of defeats
was a regular habit of the later Roman annalists; that the received version
is at variance with that of Polybius, our oldest surviving authority; and
that there is no mention of Camillus’ victories in Diodorus, who is
generally supposed to have followed an early source.! On the other hand,
we saw in the previous chapter that there is good reason to doubt the
picture of extensive destruction and loss of life which is presented in the
annalistic accounts. It was suggested there that the physical damage to
the city was superficial, that the civilian population had been evacuated
and that the manpower losses at the Allia were not great.

A reasonable compromise would seem to be that the patriotic
annalistic tradition exaggerated both the extent of the disaster and the
magnitude of the subsequent victories. But if the actions of Camillus in

1 The idea that Diodorus followed an early source goes back to Mommsen 1864-79[Ago}, 221ff.
For a critical review of the question see Perl 1957{D25}, 162ff.

309

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310 7. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

the aftermath of the Gallic raid have been exaggerated, it does not
necessarily follow that they are the product of pure invention. Camillus
himself is certainly historical, and there is no good reason to doubt that
he dominated affairs in the years after the Sack. He figures prominently
in the fasti, which credit him with three consular tribunates and three
dictatorships in the years from 389 to 367 B.c. Such a career, although
remarkable, is not without parallel in the surviving record of the period.,
In fact Camillus can be regarded as the first of a series of such leaders who
held a multiplicity of offices and dominated the political life of the state in
the fourth century (see further below, pp. 344ff).

It is true, however, that the successes of Camillus are not mentioned by
Polybius or Diodorus. This point raises the more general issue of the
relative merits of our sources, and the question of how they are to be
approached. Some modern historians, including contributors to the first
edition of this work, have taken it as axiomatic that the versions of
Polybius and Diodorus should be preferred to the late annalistic tradition
followed by Livy, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Plutarch and Dio
Cassius.2 This approach appears to the present writer to be unsound, if
only because the two groups of sources do not, in fact, represent two
parallel but conflicting traditions. Polybius does not give a systematic
account of the events of the period, but merely alludes to them in passing
in the course of an interesting digression on Rome’s Gallic wars (Polyb.
11.18-35). As for Diodorus, the identity of the source he followed for
his Roman history remains a mystery (cf. above, p. 3). That it was the
work of an early annalist is possible, but by no means certain. In any
event Diodorus’ notices of early Roman history are so scarce, and his
choice of events is so idiosyncratic, that nothing can legitimately be
inferred from his silence on any particular topic. The fact remains that
Livy is the only source to give a full-length narrative history of the fourth
century, and it is not good method to regard as automatically suspect
anything in Livy that is not corroborated by other sources.

In particular, there is no warrant for the view that there are two
traditions about the decades following the Gallic disaster. Polybius tells
us that, after the destruction of Rome by Brennus, thirty years elapsed
before the Gauls returned to Latium. He also states that during the
interval the Romans regained their supremacy over the Latins (11.18.
5-6). This appears to be a specific allusion to the fact, acknowledged by
Livy, that the Latin and Hernican federations withdrew their support
from Rome after the Sack, and that the Cassian treaty remained in
abeyance until it was renewed in 358 B.c. (Livy vi.2.3—4; 9.6; vil.12.7; and
see further below). This need not mean, however, that the Romans were

2 Homo 1928[J178], 554~-5-

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ROME’S WIDENING HORIZONS R11

reduced to impotence for thirty years; nor does it necessarily indicate that
it took them thirty years to restore the status quo ante. In fact, the position
of the Roman state was far stronger in the 350s than it had been a
generation earlier. By the middle of the fourth century the scope of
Rome’s military and diplomatic activity had expanded greatly, and for
the first time its power and influence were felt beyond the borders of
Latium.

It is worth noting that at this period the main outline of events as
reported in the literary tradition can be accepted with a much greater
degree of confidence. The information in our sources improves notice-
ably in both quantity and quality from the 360s onwards. It is true that
Livy himself has a rather different view of the matter. He argues that the
record is both fuller and more reliable for the period after the Sack
(vI.1.1-3), and he marks a second break in 343 B.c. when the scale of his
narrative changes (vit.29.1—z). But Livy’s arguments are based not on a
first-hand acquaintance with the primary evidence, but on purely subjec-
tive impressions.3 To a modern reader of Livy’s text it is clear that the
evidential basis for the narrative of the decades after 390 B.C. is not better
(though not necessarily worse) than for the period before the Sack;
whereas there is a marked change in the character of the tradition from
¢. 366 B.c. onwards, when Livy’s account becomes much more detailed.

There seem to be two reasons for this improvement. First, we are now
beginning to approach the period that was within the living memory of
the first Roman historians and their informants. The earliest Roman
historian, Fabius Pictor, was born probably in the second quarter of the
third century B.c., and would have met and spoken to men who remem-
bered the Great Samnite War (327-304 B.c.) and the censorship of
Appius Claudius (312), and who had themselves known men of the
generation of M. Valerius Corvus (cos. 348; 343, etc.). Secondly, we
should note that from the 360s Livy begins to include many more routine
notices of annual events, for example the deaths of officials, the appoint-
ment of dictators for religious or electoral purposes, and, at the outbreak
of a war, the dispatch of the fetia/es and the formal vote of the centuriate
assembly (e.g. Livy v1.6.7, 362 B.c.). Such notices must indicate the
increasing use of documentary evidence’ from official archives. It is
tempting to connect the greater availability of official records with the
constitutional changes of 367 B.c. In any event, the improved quality of
the record is not in doubt.

The evident growth of Roman power between the 390s and the 350s
B.C. must serve to authenticate the Roman military successes that are
recorded in the aftermath of the Sack — indeed it requires us to presup-

3 Cornell 1980[B34], 24-5.

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312 J. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

pose them. There is nothing particularly surprising in the fact that, even
without the support of the Latins and Hernici, the Romans were able to
embark on an aggressive military policy. As we have seen, their physical
resources were probably not seriously diminished by the Gallic raid, and
circumstances generally favoured them. The point can be illustrated by a
brief survey of how things stood at the time of the raid.

I. The most important single factor contributing to the strength of
Rome at this time was the annexation of the territory of Veli (ager
Veientanus) in 396 B.c., which had increased the size of Rome’s territory
by some 562 km.? If account is taken of other territorial gains made
during the fifth century (Crustumerium, Ficulea, Fidenae, Labici), it is
possible to calculate that the ager Romanus had doubled in size since the
fall of the monarchy, frome. 822 km.” in 509 B.c. toc. 1582 km.2 in 396.4 It
is reasonable to assume a corresponding increase in manpower resources.

In the aftermath of the Gallic Sack the Romans consolidated their hold
on the new territories. Hostile attacks by the Etruscan cities to the north
were repulsed by Camillus in 389 and 386 B.c.,> after which we hear of no
further threats to Rome’s northern borders for nearly thirty years. The
principal adversary was presumably the city of Tarquinii, with which
Rome now shared a common border on the north-west of the ager
Veientanus, although the tradition speaks (probably wrongly) of a joint
enterprise by the entire Etruscan nation (Livy v1.2.2). In 388 the Romans
themselves invaded the territory of Tarquinii and captured two other-
wise unknown towns, Cortuosa and Contenebra (Livy v1.4.8—10). The
general aim of Rome’s policy was to establish a firm frontier along the
Monti Cimini, which form a natural barrier; an important stage in the
process was the foundation of Latin colonies at Sutrium (Sutri) and
Nepet (Nepi), probably in 383, although there is some confusion in our
sources about the exact date.6 The strategic importance of these two
outposts was recognized by Livy, who likens them to ‘barriers and
gateways of Etruria’ (‘“Etruriae. . .claustra. . . portaeque’: Livy v1.9.4).

Meanwhile, the Roman state was organizing the settlement of the ager
Veientanus. Some years previously allotments of Veientine land had been
distributed to Roman citizens (Livy v.30.8; Diod. x1v.102.4). Then in
389 Roman citizenship was conferred on the surviving native popula-
tion, as well as on the inhabitants of the territory that had been seized
from the Capenates and Faliscans in 395 and 394. Livy regards this grant

4 Beloch 1926{Arz}, 620.

5 If these are not, in fact, ‘doublets’ of one another, as Beloch supposed (Beloch 1926{A12}, 305).
See chronological note, p. 349.

6 Livy does not record the foundation of Sutrium, but dates Nepet to 383 (vi.21.4). Velleius
Paterculus (1.14) says that Sutrium was founded seven years after the Sack, and Nepet ten years later.
On this problem see Harris 1971[J175}, 43-4-

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ROME’S WIDENING HORIZONS 313

of citizenship as a reward for a handful of pro-Roman quislings (v1.4.4),
and suggests that the bulk of the population was sold into slavery
(v.22.1). Although some historians accept Livy’s version,’ it seems in
fact to reflect the attitudes and practices of a later age, when Roman
citizenship was highly prized, and mass enslavements were a regular
feature of Roman policy. It is much more likely, given the absence at this
period of a market for such a vast number of slaves, that only a minority
of the defeated Veientines were sold.

The resettlement of the ager Veientanus was probably complete by 387
B.c., when four new local tribes were created: the Stellatina, Tromentina,
Sabatina and Arniensis (Livy v1.5.8). The Romans’ control of the region
was symbolized by the fact that shortly after the Sack they began to
construct a new city wall, made of squared stones from the Grotta
Oscura quarries near Veii. It is also relevant to note that the wall, which
was over eleven kilometres long, enclosed an area of c. 426 hectares. By
the start of the fourth century s.c. the city of Rome was the largest urban
settlement in Central Italy.

II. Another circumstance that worked to the Romans’ advantage was
their alliance with Caere. Caere had supported Rome against Veii and had
provided a refuge for the Vestal Virgins at the time of the Gallic Sack (p.
306). This was the product of a long-standing entente that continued after
the Sack. But the precise juridical terms of the relationship are uncertain
and have given rise to much debate. The question has important implica-
tions, and it will be necessary to outline the main points of the contro-
versy in a brief digression.

At some stage in its history Caere was incorporated into the Roman
state with the restricted form of citizenship known as civitas sine suffragio
(‘citizenship without suffrage’). Some sources maintained that this act of
union came about after the departure of the Gauls from Rome in 3908.c.,
and that Caere was the first community to receive the cévitas sine suffragio.
It was noted that a grant of citizenship without full political rights was a
rather poor reward for the help which the people of Caere had given the
Romans in their hour of need (Strabo v.z.3, p. 220C). Livy’s version is
rather different. He defines the relationship between Rome and Caere as
‘public guest-friendship’ (‘hospitium publicum’: Livy v.50.3), which
probably means that when in Rome a citizen of Caere could enjoy all the
private rights and privileges of Roman citizenship but would be free
from its burdens and obligations. The same would apply to Romans at
Caere.8 Somewhat later, in the 350s, Livy records a war between Caere
and Rome which ended in 353 with a truce (indutiae) of 100 years (v11.20).
This report must imply that Caere was still an independent sovereign

7 Harris 1971[J175], 41 and n. 6. 8 Sordi 1960[J 230], 110ff.

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314 7. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

state, and would appear to rule out any possibility that the Caeretans had
been made Roman citizens sine suffragio in either 390 or 353 B.C., although
both dates have been widely canvassed.°

Asacompromise it has been suggested that the institution of civitas sine
suffragio did not originally entail incorporation in the Roman state, but
was a form of potential or honorary citizenship similar to the Latin right
(see above, p. 269); and that what Livy referred to as hospitium publicum
was, in fact, nothing other than this original civitas sine suffragio.!° Some
support for this contention is provided by a passage of Aulus Gellius
(NA xv1.13.7), who writes that the Caeretans became the first municipes
sine suffragio, and received the honour of citizenship without any of its
commitments or burdens (on municipes see below, p. 319).

But an equally plausible solution is that Roman antiquarians were
simply mistaken when they dated the cévitas sine suffragio of the Caeretans
to the time of the Gallic invasion. Their mistake would have resulted
from a facile interpretation of a document or group of documents known
as the Tabulae Caeritum (the ‘Register of the Caeretans’). The Tabulae
Caeritum were apparently lists on which the censors used to enter the
names of Roman citizens who did not possess full rights of suffrage. The
fact that the lists were called Tabulae Caeritum was taken to imply that
there was a time when the only names they contained were those of
Caeretans, and consequently that the Caeretans were the first to possess
the civitas sine suffragio. This inference may or may not be correct — as a
matter of fact there are other perfectly possible explanations;!! but in any
event the point is of no great consequence. What is important is that the
relationship between Rome and Caere in the years after 390 B.C. involved
a reciprocal grant of honorary citizenship, and it does not much matter
whether we choose to regard it as hospitium publicum or as an early form of
civitas sine suffragio.

The problem that remains is the question of when Caere was finally
absorbed into the Roman state with cévitas sine suffragio in its later form —
which entailed all the burdens and obligations of Roman citizenship but
none of the political rights. Here the most attractive theory is still that of
Beloch, who dated the incorporation of Caere to 273 B.c., when the city
was deprived of half its territory following a revolt.!2

The origin of the civitas sine suffragio is fundamental to our understand-
ing of the development of the juridical framework of Rome’s foreign

9 390B.C.: Sordi 1960[J 230], 36-49; Harris 1971[J175], 45-6. 353 B.c.: Mommsen 1887-8[Ag1],
11.572; De Sanctis 1907—64[A37], 1.243; Sherwin-White 1973[A1z3], 51; Humbert 1978[J184],
4loff. 10 Sordi 1960[J230], esp. 107ff.

't For one suggestion see Brunt 1971[A2t], 515-18.

'2 Dio fr. 33, vol. 1, p. 138 Boiss., Beloch 1926[A1z2], 363; see below, p. 423.

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ROME’S WIDENING HORIZONS 315

relations, and it is this abstract question that has been the focus of modern
discussion. Less attention has been paid to the more specific problem of
how the link between Rome and Caere affected the political and military
affairs of Central Italy in the fourth century B.c.!3 On this the sources are
not helpful. For example, we have no idea to what extent, if any, the
understanding between the two cities entailed military co-operation. But
on any view it is clear that together they were a formidable coalition.
That they were a threat to the ambitions of Dionysius of Syracuse has
been plausibly argued (cf. above, p. 306).

One consequence of the entente was that the Romans began to pay
more attention to the wider world of the western Mediterranean. A set of
disconnected and seemingly improbable reports can be formed into a
coherent story which makes sense in the general context of the alliance
with Caere. Justin tells us that in 389 B.c. Rome made a formal alliance
with Massalia, and adds the specific information that Massaliot visitors
to Rome were to enjoy certain privileges (Justin xLi11.5.10). This clause
appears to recall the institution of hospitium publicum, which was probably
a common feature of international treaties at this period, and not a native
Roman institution at all.!4 Shortly afterwards Diodorus records that the
Romans sent a colony of 500 citizens to Sardinia (Diod. xv.27.4); and an
anecdote in Theophrastus (Hist. P/. v.8.2) refers to a Roman attempt to
colonize Corsica, but with no indication of the date. We should note,
moreover, that the most recent study of the archaeological evidence
dates the foundation of a fortified settlement at Ostia to the period
380-350 B.c.!5 We know no more than this, so it is impossible to tell
whether this Roman spirit of adventurism had commercial or piratical
aims, or whether there was some broader strategic purpose.'®

This evidence of Roman maritime activity is surprising, and
uncharacteristic of the Romans, who were later renowned for having a
healthy dislike of the sea. Some scholars have indeed rejected the reports
on that account. But the fact that they do not appear in the annalistic
sources is not necessarily an argument for rejecting them. That they
derive from an independent Greek tradition (directly in the case of
Theophrastus) could well be in their favour. And it is surely unwise to
reject evidence simply on the grounds that it does not conform to
expectations.

III. A third circumstance that favoured the Romans at this time was
the relative weakness of their southern neighbours. In the course of the

13 This aspect is considered at length, however, by Sordi 1960[J230], esp. giff.

14 Sordi 1960[J230], 111ff. 15 F, Zevi in Roma medio-repubblicana 1973[B4o1], 343ff.

16 Sordi 1960[J230], 91ff has suggested that the object was to avert the threat of Dionysius of
Syracuse. For a different assessment see Momigliano 1936[F48], 393-8 (= id. Quarto Contributo
35561).

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316 7. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

fifth century Rome had come to dominate her Latin and Hernican allies,
and by about 4oo B.c. she had reduced the Volsci and Aequi to virtual
impotence. Successful actions against these peoples at the end of the fifth
century had given the Romans a position of supremacy in the upper
Trerus valley and the Pomptine region, although they were not as yet
able to maintain a permanent presence there, apart from the isolated
strongpoints where Latin colonies were established, such as Velitrae,
Vitellia and Circeii. In the half century after the Gallic Sack we find the
Roman state engaged in almost continuous warfare in the Pomptine
region, the district that for over a century had been in Volscian hands. It
is sometimes suggested that the Volscians were able to take advantage of
Rome’s weakness after the Gallic raid, and that in the following years the
Romans had to struggle against a renewed Volscian offensive. But this
view has no support in the sources. In fact, the record shows that Rome’s
campaigns were not defensive operations aimed at warding off hostile
attacks, but were rather a concerted attempt to extend her control in the
region. The results confirm the general reliability of the record. Bearing
these points in mind, then, we may now turn to an examination of the
events themselves.

In the year after the departure of the Gauls Camillus defeated the
Volscians of Antium at a place south of Lanuvium called ‘ad Maecium’.
This campaign was perhaps a response to a Volscian attack, but it is not
inconceivable, given the location of the battle, that the Romans had
decided on a show of strength. At any rate the sources are all agreed that
the result was decisive. The victory was followed by what in current
jargon would be called a ‘pre- emptive strike’ against the Aequi; the
Aequi were taken by surprise as Camillus and his army descended on
them near Bolae, which was then captured at the first attack (Livy
vi.2.14). The next year (388) the military tribunes ‘led an army against the
Aequi, not to make war (for the Aequi admitted they were defeated), but
out of hatred, intending to destroy their lands and leave them no strength
for future designs’ (Livy vir.4.8). After this the sources make no further
mention of the Aequi until their ill-fated rebellion in 304 B.c.

An indication of the Romans’ aggressive posture at this time is given
by the report of their intention to annex the Pomptine plain. In 388 and
387 the tribunes of the plebs are said to have agitated for the ‘viritane’
distribution of the ager Pomptinus or ‘Pomptine territory’ (Livy v1.5.1; 6.1
i.e. its distribution in individual allotments). A victorious campaign by
Camillus in 386 (if it is not a ‘doublet’ of the one in 389 — see
chronological note, p. 349) was followed by the foundation of colonies at
Satricum (Le Ferriere) in 385 and Setia (Sezze) in 382, fortress sites which
overlooked the Pomptine plain from the north and east respectively. In
383 a five-man commission was appointed to distribute the ager

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ROME’S WIDENING HORIZONS 317

Pomptinus ( quinqueviri agro dividendo— Livy v1.21.4). The task was not fully
accomplished until 358 B.c., and we cannot say how much progress was
made in the intervening period. The delay was almost certainly due in
part to the desperate resistance put up by the Volscians of the Pomptine
district, whose very existence as a separate people was directly threat-
ened; the Romans had clearly decided to pursue the same policy in this
region as they had against Veil.

It is against this background that we can begin to understand the
puzzle of the relations between the Romans and their Latin and Hernican
allies. Livy speaks of a revolt (defectio) immediately after the Sack, but the
record of events shows that Rome was not faced with a full-scale armed
uprising of the kind that had occurred after the fall of the monarchy and
that was to occur again in 340 B.c. Rather it seems that the arrangements
of the foedus Cassianum simply lapsed, and that the military partnership
ceased to function. Livy writes, under the year 386 B.c., ‘in the same year
satisfaction was demanded from the Latins and Hernici, who were asked
why in recent years they had provided no military contingents as they
had agreed to do’ (Livy v1.9.6). What clearly puzzled Livy and his
sources was the fact that the Romans took no active steps to rectify this
state of affairs. The suggestion that they were prevented from doing so
on various occasions because of greater dangers on other fronts is a
transparent rationalization (Livy v1.6.2; 10.9; 14.1 etc.).

The answer is probably that it no longer suited the Romans to enforce
the terms of the foedus Cassianum. The treaty had after all come into being
at a time when Rome and the Latins were threatened by external forces,
and it had served the interests of both parties; but now that the external
threats had receded it was no longer in the Romans’ interest to subscribe
to a treaty that inhibited their chances of further territorial expansion.

Many of the Latin communities seem to have remained loyal to Rome.
This is attested in the case of Tusculum and Lanuvium, and is probably
true of other cities as well, such as Aricia, Lavinium and Ardea.!? These
communities probably continued to send troops and to take part in the
Latin colonies that were founded by Rome. The difference was that the
Romans were now dealing with each of them individually rather than
with all of them collectively.

Some Latin peoples, however, were overtly hostile, and joined the
Volscians in armed resistance to Rome. The result was a reversal of what
had happened in the fifth century, when the Latins had joined forces with
Rome in response to Volscian attacks; now they were uniting with the
Volscians against the threat of Roman encroachment. The secessionists
included the Latin colonists of Velitrae and Circeii. Their action can be

17 De Sanctis 1907-64[A37], 11.232-3.

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318 7. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

explained partly on the assumption that most of their population actually
consisted of the original Volscian inhabitants, and partly by the fact that
they were especially threatened by the Romans’ plan to overrun the
Pomptine Plain. It is not at all surprising that the nearest of the old Latin
communities, Lanuvium, is also recorded as joining the Volscians in 383
B.C., although it had hitherto been loyal (Livy v1.21.2).

Of the Latin states that opposed the Romans during this period the
largest and most powerful were Tibur and Praeneste. It is probable that
these cities had not belonged to the Latin League in the fifth century (see
above p. 285), and only began to play a part in the affairs of the region
after the withdrawal of the Aequi. At all events they became formidable
adversaries of the Romans in the fourth century. As far as we know,
hostilities between Rome and Tibur did not begin until 361 B.c., but
already in 382 the Praenestines are recorded as attacking Rome’s allies
and joining the Volscians. Livy’s account of Roman successes against
Praeneste in 380 B.C. has an authentic ring: “Titus Quinctius (Cincinna-
tus) then returned in triumph to Rome. He had won one victory in
pitched battle, taken nine towns by assault and accepted the surrender of
Praeneste, and brought with hima statue of Iuppiter Imperator which he
had carried off from Praeneste. This he dedicated on the Capitol between
the shrines of Iuppiter and Minerva, with a plaque fixed below it to
commemorate his exploits bearing an inscription to this effect: “Iuppiter
and all the gods granted that the dictator Titus Quinctius should capture
nine towns”’’.18

To the south there was fierce fighting in the Pomptine district, with
Satricum and Velitrae at the centre of the action. Satricum was repeatedly
taken and retaken in the period between 386 and 346 B.c. (Livy v1.8; 16.5;
22; 32; VII.27); Velitrae was the object of continual attack by the Romans,
and its capture is reported in 380 (Livy v1.29.6) and again in 367 after a
long siege (Livy v1.36.1-6; 42.4; Plut. Cam. 42.1).

There can be no question about the generally aggressive and expan-
sionist nature of Roman policy at this time. The clearest demonstration
of the Romans’ intentions occurred in 381 B.c., when they annexed
Tusculum. Ina sense this was a logical step, since Tusculum was by now
completely, or almost completely, surrounded by Roman territory. The
sources suggest that the Tusculans had become disaffected, and had
actually joined the Volscians (Livy vi.25.1); given the menacing charac-
ter of Rome’s recent actions, that would not be altogether surprising.
Camillus was dispatched with an army against Tusculum, which surren-
dered without a blow. The free inhabitants were forthwith admitted to
Roman citizenship.

'8 Livy vt.29.9; cf. Diod. xv.47. Festus 498 L gives a different version of the text. Cicero, II Verr.
4.129 wrongly connects the dedication with T. Quinctius Flamininus, cos. 198. On this see De Sanctis
1907-64[A37], 11.237 n. 31.

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ROME’S WIDENING HORIZONS 319

The later Roman tradition was pleased to regard this act as one of great
generosity, a sign of the humanity of the Romans in general and of
Camillus in particular (Livy v.25.6; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. xtv.6). But this
anachronistic presentation conceals the fact that the incorporation of
Tusculum marked the political annihilation of an independent commu-
nity. We need not be surprised that Tusculum joined the insurgents at the
time of the great Latin revolt (340 B.c.), nor should we cast doubt on
reported attempts by the other Latins to detach Tusculum from Rome
(e.g. Livy v1.36.1-6: 370 B.C.).

It seems certain that the Tusculans received full Roman citizenship
(civitas optimo iure) rather than civitas sine suffragio. They nevertheless
retained their corporate identity and were internally self-governing, but
were subject to all the duties and obligations of Roman citizens (above all
the payment of fributum and service in the legions). Tusculum thus
became a Roman municipium, a word whose original significance is
uncertain, but which in later times was the standard term for any
community incorporated into the Roman state as a self-governing body
of Roman citizens. The view that the term originally applied only to cives
sine suffragio, and not to cives optimo iure, is probably mistaken.!9 We may
conclude therefore that Tusculum became the first municipium, a con-
clusion that receives some support from the sources (Cic. Plane. 19).

According to the traditional narrative the period from 376 to 363 B.C.
was one of comparative peace, interrupted only by the siege of Velitrae
(370-367) and a Gallic raid in 367 which may be apocryphal (see below).
It is true that the period in question has been artificially lengthened in the
Varronian tradition for chronological reasons (see below p. 348), but
even after allowance has been made for this, one is left with an interval of
some ten years without any serious campaigns. The explanation offered
by our sources is that the Romans were preoccupied by domestic
problems — first a political crisis and then a plague — which prevented
them from engaging in warfare. This explanation would be absurd if the
Romans had been defending themselves against hostile attacks; but it
does make sense in terms of the aggressive policy which has been
postulated in the foregoing pages, and is indeed an indirect confirmation
of it.

The resumption of warfare in 362 B.c. opened a new phase in the
history of Rome’s external relations. A decade of vigorous and successful
campaigning brought an unprecedented series of victories (eight tri-
umphs and one ovation are recorded in the period from 361 to 354; see
below p. 363, Table 7) and placed Roman power on a new footing. This
general point can be asserted with some confidence, even if the exact
pattern of events is difficult to reconstruct in detail. The sources record

'9 Humbert 1978{J184], 283-4. Contra, e.g. Sherwin-White 1973[A123], 4off.

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320 7. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

simultaneous Roman campaigns against a bewildering variety of differ-
ent adversaries, but they do not properly explain the relationship be-
tween them. Moreover, the annalistic tradition probably contains errors
and doublets. In these circumstances it seems best to offer a brief and
tentative summary of what the tradition records, and to comment in
passing on the salient points.

Rome’s new offensive apparently began with a war against the
Hernici. After an initial reverse in 362 the Romans captured Ferentinum
in 361 and won further victories in 360 and 358. The outcome was
probably the renewal, in 358, of the alliance which had been in abeyance
since the Gallic Sack. We know at any rate that the treaty with the Latins
was revived in 358 (Livy vi1.12.7). It may be that the new agreements
were made on terms that were much more favourable to the Romans than
in the original treaties, but the sources do not help us on this issue. At all
events the Latins were now obliged to assent to the Roman occupation of
the ager Pomptinus, and at the same time the Hernici were forced to cede
part of their territory in the Trerus valley for occupation by Roman
settlers. These annexations were formally carried out in 358 B.c., when
the two districts were formed into new Roman tribes, respectively the
Pomptina and the Publilia (Livy vit.5.11).

The Romans renewed their alliance with the Latin and Hernican
Leagues at a time when Latium was once again being menaced by attacks
from outside — a fact that is unlikely to be a coincidence. Indeed this very
point is made explicitly by Livy (v11.12.7—8) and implicitly by Polybius
(11.18.5), both of whom refer to the renewal of the Latin treaty in the
context of an attack by the Gauls. Livy records several Gallic incursions
at this period — in 367, 361, 360, 358 and 357 B.c. — whereas Polybius
refers to just one, which he dates thirty years after the original Sack.
Again, Livy’s account includes a number of Roman victories, whereas
Polybius says that the Romans avoided meeting the Gauls in the field
(Polyb. 11.18.6).

It is possible that some of Livy’s reports are doublets or errors.
Particular suspicion attaches to the alleged victory in 367 B.c., which
enabled the aged Camillus to crown his career with one final Gallic
victory. Livy himself appears to be aware of some confusion here,
because he notes that a single combat between T. Manlius Torquatus and
a gigantic Gaul, which he narrates under 361 B.c. (Livy vi1.10), was dated
to 367 by some of his sources (Livy v1.42.5; cf. Claudius Quadrigarius fr.
10-11 P). But we should not necessarily conclude that all Livy’s notices
are fictitious. In fact there is much to be said for the view that the attacks
recorded by Livy were carried out by Gallic war-bands operating from
southern Italy,20 whereas Polybius only took note of invasions from the
north.

2 Sordi 1960[J230], 164~5. Note esp. Livy vit.1.3 (Apulia); 11.1 (Campania), etc.

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ROME’S WIDENING HORIZONS 321

An integral part of the Livian tradition, and one that is unlikely to have
been invented, is the war with Tibur, which lasted from 361 to 354 and in
which the Tiburtines joined the Gauls in their attacks on Rome. Evi-
dently Tibur was excluded from the new agreement Rome had made
with the Latin League in 358 B.c. There is nothing particularly surprising
about this, since as far as we can see Tibur had never been a member of
the Latin League (see above p. 285). The same probably goes for
Praeneste, which was also hostile to Rome in the 350s. In 354 both Tibur
and Praeneste were compelled to surrender and to make separate agree-
ments with Rome (Livy vit.19.1; Diodorus xvi.45.8).

In 358 B.c. the Romans also found themselves at war with the
Etruscans of Tarquinii, who were joined in 357 by Falerii and by Caere in
353. In 356 Livy records a victory by the dictator C. Marcius Rutilus over
the entire Etruscan nation (v1.17.6—9), but this is probably an annalist’s
misunderstanding of a notice in which the Tarquinienses and their allies
were referred to by the general name of Etruscans. The origin of this war
is totally obscure, and its character is difficult to assess from the brief
notices we are given in Livy. One notable — and probably authentic —
episode was the killing of 307 Roman prisoners of war in the forum of
Tarquinii following an Etruscan victory in 358 (Livy vi1.15.10). There is
some reason to believe that this act was an expiatory ritual for the dead of
Tarquinii, and is to be seen as a form of gladiatorial performance.?! The
gesture was repaid in kind in 354 B.c. when 358 noble Tarquinienses
were put to death in the Roman Forum (Livy vu.19.2—-3; cf. Diod.
Xv1.45.8). The outcome of the war was a truce of 100 years with Caere
(353 B.C.) and truces of forty years each with Tarquinii and Falerii (351).

In 350 and 349 the Gauls once again attacked Latium. In 349 the Latin
League refused to send troops to the army, and a Greek fleet ravaged the
coast. But in spite of these difficulties the Romans managed to defeat the
Gauls (in a battle in which M. Valerius Corvus fought a celebrated duel
with a Gallic champion — Livy vu.26), and the Greek fleet eventually
withdrew. Livy’s speculation (v11.26.15) that the ships were Syracusan
was probably well founded. The incident was not repeated, as far as we
know, a fact which may have something to do with the overthrow of
Dionysius II and the upheaval that followed in Sicily. Equally we hear of
no further Gallic attacks for several decades. In 331, according to
Polybius (11.18.9), the Romans made peace with the Gauls, who did not
return for another thirty years.

The significance of the Gallic wars of the fourth century B.c. is
difficult to assess. It is not clear whether we should visualize the periodic
attacks as large-scale invasions by terrifying and irresistible barbaric

21 Torelli 1981{J124], 3ff; cf. id. 1975{B266), 82ff.

2 Sordi 1960[J250], 68; her view is that the Syracusans had organized a simultaneous attack by
their fleet and by a land-based force of Gallic mercenaries.

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322 J. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

hordes, sweeping aside everything in their path in orgies of destruction
(which is how the first great invasion of 390 was seen by all the sources,
and how Polybius envisaged the subsequent incursions down to the third
century), or whether they were petty raids by relatively small marauding
bands operating from within the peninsula (which is the model that some
historians have drawn from Livy). On this view they represented little
more than a minor irritation to Rome, once she had learned how to deal
with them. The view adopted in the present chapter has tended towards
the latter alternative, but in the knowledge that the available evidence
does not permit any certainty. The main reason for this approach is that
the Gallic raids — even the great invasion of 390 B.c. — had little long-term
effect on wider developments and did not upset the general pattern of
interstate relationships in Central Italy. The Gauls thus represent an
extraneous and largely irrelevant factor in Italian history at this time.

That is not to say, however, that the inhabitants of peninsular Italy
were able to view the Gauls with equanimity. The raids were terrifying
and unpredictable, and aroused deep and irrational fears. Their effect on
the collective mentality of the Roman people was remarkable. In later
times the threat — even the merest possibility — of a ‘Gallic outbreak’
(tumultus Gallicus) called for emergency troop levies and induced a state
of extreme panic. The clearest example is the series of bizarre happenings
in 114-13 B.C. that were provoked by news of the approach of the Cimbri
(who were assumed to be Celts). On this occasion human sacrifices were
performed and Vestal Virgins were put to death (because the danger to
the state seemed to prove that they had been unchaste). The same
procedures are known to have been carried out on earlier occasions —
specifically in 228 and 216 B.c., both times in connexion with Gallic
invasions of Italy. The human sacrifice involved the burial in the Forum
Boarium of a pair of Gauls and a pair of Greeks. It has been suggested
that this curious rite had its origins in the mid-fourth century B.c., and
represented a magical performance designed to neutralize the threat of
the two great external foes, the Gauls and the Sicilian Greeks.” But this
may be too rational an interpretation of a ritual which we cannot really
hope to understand.

There can be no doubt, however, about the main trend to emerge from
the bewildering array of brief and obscure campaign reports of the mid-
fourth century. These are the inexorable growth of the Romans’ military
power, the increasingly ambitious nature of their foreign entanglements
and the ever widening scope and scale of their warlike operations. There
is no good reason to deny the historicity of the Roman raid against
Privernum in 357 (Livy vu.16.3—6), the attack on the Aurunci in 345

2 A. Fraschetti 1981[G4o4], 51-115, esp. goff.

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ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL PROBLEMS 323

(Livy vit.28.1—3) or the capture of Sora in the same year (Livy vul.28.6).
These ventures make sense in relation to the events that were to follow;
and the widening horizons of Rome are confirmed by two cardinal pieces
of evidence: the treaty between Rome and the Samnites in 354 B.c. and
that between Rome and Carthage in 348.

Of the former we know only what we are told by Livy, who simply
reports that a treaty of alliance (foedus) was granted to the Samnites, who
had requested it because they were so impressed by a recent Roman
victory over the Etruscans (Livy vi1.19.4). Of the background to the
treaty, of its purpose and of its terms we know absolutely nothing, but
presumably the two parties pledged themselves to respect one another’s
interests, however defined. Whether any kind of military alliance was
entered into at this stage cannot be known.”4 The Carthage treaty, on the
other hand, is almost certainly to be identified with the second of the
three treaties which are quoted and discussed by Polybius (111.24; see
pp. 526ff). The text given by Polybius is unfortunately vague about the
precise extent of Roman power, and merely recognizes Roman
overlordship of Latium and the fact that there were other peoples outside
Latium with whom Rome had formal relations. These ‘non-subject’
peoples, who are described as having written peace treaties with Rome,
are normally identified with Tibur, Praeneste, Caere, Tarquinii and
Falerii. The existence of places in Latium not subject to the Romans is
also implied; presumably the reference is to towns suchas Antium, which
was still under Volscian control. As far as these places are concerned, the
treaty does not forbid all hostile actions by the Carthaginians (as the
treaty of 509 B.c. had done); on the contrary, it permits them to keep the
spoils from any such place that might fall into their hands, but insists that
they hand over the town itself to the Romans. Probably what is implied is
the possibility of Carthaginian piratical raids, rather than joint warlike
operations by the Romans and Carthaginians acting together, although
the latter view cannot be entirely ruled out.

II. ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL PROBLEMS IN THE FOURTH
CENTURY: POVERTY, LAND HUNGER AND DEBT

The years of recovery and gradual expansion after the Gallic Sack also
witnessed dramatic changes in Roman social structure and political
organization. The archaic society that is revealed to us in the Twelve
Tables and other early sources was in a state of radical transition by the
end of the fifth century. As we have seen, the Gallic raid was only a
temporary setback in the growth of Roman power in Latium; on the

24 Salmon 1967[J106], 192-3 gives a speculative reconstruction of its terms.

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324 7. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

other hand it must have exacerbated the difficulties of the poorest class
and can only have increased social tensions and hastened the process of
internal change.

The period is represented as one of profound crisis and continual
strife, leading to an attempted coup d’état in 384 and culminating in the
‘anarchy’ of the Licinio-Sextian Rogations at the end of the 370s. These
years are not well documented, however, and the details of the events are
uncertain. The sources are agreed that there were three main underlying
issues: land, debt and the political rights of the plebeians. But although
they have much to say on these matters, it is clear that they did not
properly understand them. This is not really surprising, since the main
institutional features of the archaic period had either been abolished or
become obsolete by the beginning of the third century B.c., and its true
character had long been forgotten by the time Fabius Pictor began to
write. Nevertheless some record of the major events and issues of the
struggle were preserved: for instance, the attempted coup of M. Manlius
Capitolinus, the basic content of legislative enactments, changes in the
rules governing eligibility for the chief magistracies, measures to allevi-
ate debt and to alter the condition of debtors. The historians and
annalists of the late Republic did their best to make sense of these
traditional facts, and to construct around them a coherent narrative that
would explain the behaviour, attitudes and aspirations of the groups and
individuals who took part in the story. In doing so they inevitably
distorted the historical reality, because their understanding of the institu-
tional background was very limited and their interpretations were often
naive and mistaken. Above all they were not fully aware of how different
the archaic age of Rome was from that in which they themselves lived;
the result was that they unconsciously modernized the story. They made
false and anachronistic assumptions about the economic and social
organization of Rome in the fifth and fourth centuries B.c.; and they
modelled their accounts of political struggles on the experience of more
recent times, adopting the political vocabulary of the late Republic and
assimilating the early leaders of the plebs to the Gracchi, Saturninus and
Catiline.

In a sense the procedure of the annalists was understandable enough.
The issues that dominated the crisis of the early fourth century were in
some respects similar to those of the second and first centuries B.c. This
point deserves emphasis. It has been suggested that the traditional stories
of agitation about ager publicus and debt-bondage were fabrications
modelled on the events of the age of the Gracchi and later. But such
scepticism is unjustified. Land and debt were constant issues in political
struggles in the Greco-Roman world. Moreover, the conflicts of the
fourth century B.c. as recorded in our sources have certain distinctive

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ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL PROBLEMS 325

features which clearly puzzled later historians; and whatever the
shortcomings of the late-republican annalists, it would be difficult to
believe that they invented things that were beyond their own powers of
comprehension.

In this chapter it will be assumed that the sources were right to stress
the issues of land and debt in their accounts of the social conflicts of the
fourth century. However obscure the details, it seerns certain that the
conflict between the patricians and the plebeians in early Rome was
principally a struggle against oppression by a large class of poor peasants
who were in subjection to the rich.25 The domination of the rich rested on
their control of large landed estates; while the small size of the majority of
peasant holdings was the cause of the indebtedness of the poor and of the
state of bondage to which they were reduced.”6

In the present state of the record, however, it is impossible to proceed
with any confidence from this level of generality to more specific details.
As long as it is accepted that no credence can be given to the social and
economic framework that is presupposed in the literary narratives, the
historian has no alternative but to fall back on conjecture and intuition in
an attempt to construct an alternative and necessarily hypothetical model
of the early Roman economy. Much of what follows is therefore admit-
tedly hypothetical, and combines what appear to the present writer to be
the most convincing elements of several modern reconstructions. The
criteria of selection have been, first, the capacity of any given model to
explain puzzling and contradictory data in the literary sources, and
secondly its general plausibility, particularly in the light of comparative
evidence from other archaic societies.

A fact of prime importance for our understanding of the early Roman
economy is the land hunger of the peasantry.?’ References in the sources
to the small size of peasant holdings are frequent and pervasive, and
cannot reasonably be rejected out of hand. Whatever view is taken of the
tradition concerning the heritable property (Aeredium) of two iugera (=
0.5 hectares) that Romulus gave to each of the original Roman citizens
(p. 100), there is plenty of evidence that smallholdings of seven ingera or
less were common in early Rome. It is remarkable, for instance, that
when the Romans redistributed part of the extensive territory of Veii to
plebeian settlers in 393 B.c., the individual allotments were no bigger
than seven sxgera apiece (Livy v.30.8; Diod. xIv.102.5 gives four éugera).

These figures are interesting because a plot of seven sugera (let alone
one of two or four) would not be sufficient to support a family at a

25 A different view is adopted in Chap. 3 (pp. 235ff).

2% With this statement I do not mean to rule out the possibility that the plebs included landless
artisans and traders, but I doubt if such persons were more than a small minority of the population.

® For discussion of these issues in a fifth-century context cf. pp. 13 3ff.

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326 7- THE RECOVERY OF ROME

minimum level of subsistence. Modern estimates vary, but most experts
reckon that, in ancient conditions of agricultural technology, more than
ten /ugera would be needed to feed a family of four. Roman historians and
antiquarians offer no explanation of this peculiarity in the tradition, and
leave us to guess how peasants in early Rome made their living. The only
realistic assumption is that they were able to supplement their incomes by
working some additional land other than their own, and in particular the
so-called ‘public land’ (ager publicus). But here we step into a minefield.
The nature and function of the ager publicus, and the rights of Roman
citizens in relation to it, are among the most fundamental but at the same
time the most intractable problems in all of Roman history.

It seems reasonably certain that public or domain land had comprised a
substantial proportion of the ager Romanus from the earliest times, and
that it was continually supplemented by conquest. Its theoretical func-
tion seems to have been to provide a reserve supply of land for Roman
citizens whose own properties were not sufficient for their needs. As
such it was made available for communal grazing or for occupation by
cultivators (the tradition implies that originally the ager publicus was
uncultivated land). The small size of traditional land-holdings would
seem to indicate that the peasants were dependent on access to the ager
publicus for their livelihood. According to a traditional custom a man was
permitted to occupy as much public land as he was able to cultivate on his
own (Sic. Flacc. De condic. agr. p. 136 Lachmann). A more sophisticated
‘timocratic’ version of this customary limitation was that a Roman
citizen could occupy as much of the public land as his patrimonial
resources would permit (Columella, Rast. 1.3.11). But this is in facta very
different matter, since the wealthy patricians and their clients could
dispose of relatively large resources of capital and labour, and would
have been able to extend their control over a much wider area than is
implied by the simple notion of what one man could work on his own.

Apparently that is precisely what happened. The original customary
limitations were ignored, and the public land came to be occupied
exclusively by the rich. We are told that permitted holdings of ager
publicus began to include areas which the occupier ‘hoped’ to cultivate
(‘quod. . . inspem colendioccupavit’: Sic. Flacc. De condic. agr. p. 137L).
This cynical formulation, if it is in any sense historical, was probably
invented as a way of justifying the growth of extensive holdings. At all
events the literary sources make it plain that the wealthy patricians
encroached on the public land to the point of excluding plebeians
altogether. The earliest reference to this process occurs in a fragment of
the annalist Cassius Hemina, who wrote in the period before the Gracchi
(fr. 17P). The rich simply annexed the ager publicus to their estates and
treated it as their own heritable property; the poor were reduced to
indigence and total dependence on the wealthy landowners.

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ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL PROBLEMS 327

It is important to stress that the power of the patricians and the
oppression of the plebs derived from the particular regime of land tenure
that obtained on the ager publicus. It is this that gives Roman agrarian
history its distinctive character. The epoch-making work of Berthold
Niebuhr at the beginning of the nineteenth century established once for
all that the movements for agrarian reform that occurred during the
Republic were not aimed at redistribution of land in private ownership,
but were solely concerned with the manner of disposal and use of the ager
publicus. This fundamental thesis, which is now universally accepted even
by the most literal-minded interpreters of the ancient sources, is as valid
for the period of the early Republic as it is for the age of the Gracchi.#
The discontent of the plebeians was caused by the fact that the public
land, on which they depended for survival, was controlled and perma-
nently occupied by the patricians and their clients.

The remarkable story of how the plebeians formed their own indepen-
dent organization and fought for their rights during the fifth century has
already been dealt with in Chapter 5. The details of the struggle are
obscure, but its principal results are clear: by the beginning of the fourth
century we find an active and fully developed plebeian organization
which was pressing, through its elected leaders the tribunes, for specific
concessions on a range of issues, including the use of public land.

On this question the plebs adopted a two-pronged approach. First,
they continually demanded that newly conquered land should be distri-
buted in allotments which would become the private property of the
individual recipients (assignatio viritana), rather than remaining the pro-
perty of the state and thus a target for encroachment by wealthy posses-
sors. In the period from 486 to 367 B.c. our sources record no fewer than
twenty-two separate agrarian proposals of this kind. Some of the reports
may be unhistorical, but it is arbitrary to reject the entire tradition as an
invention, as some modern scholars have done.”9 It is noteworthy that
very few instances of agitation for land assignation are recorded during
the middle years of the fifth century, whereas they are frequent in the
period after 424 B.C.;* it is not a coincidence that at precisely this time a
series of successful military operations opened a new phase in the history
of Roman conquest (see above, p. 300f).

Naturally the plebeian demands for viritane assignations were resisted
by the patricians, who stood to benefit from the occupation of new
additions to the existing stock of ager publicus. It is extremely probable
that a dim memory of this struggle over the disposal of newly conquered
territory is concealed within the story of the attempt by the plebeians to

% Niebuhr 1838[Ag4], 11.129ff. On this whole question see Momigliano 1982[A89], 3-15.

2» E.g. Niese 1888[H68], 410ff; Beloch 1926[A12], 344; Ogilvie 1965 [Br 29], 340. The tradition is
defended by De Martino 1980[G31], 14-15.

% See Rotondi 1912[A114], 197-212, and cf. 212-15.

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328 7. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

abandon the city of Rome after the Gallic Sack and move to the site of
Veii, an attempt that was foiled by an emotional appeal from Camillus
(Livy v.51ff). The result of this particular conflict was a compromise,
since although some of the ager Veientanus was distributed to the poor,
the individual allotments were relatively small (see above).

The second line of attack that the plebs adopted was the introduction
of a statutory limit on the amount of ager publicus that any one paterfamilias
could occupy, and on the numbers of animals he could graze on it. This
was one of the principal ingredients of the Licinio-Sextian legislation,
which, in spite of fierce opposition, became law in 367 B.c. The aim of the
law was to allow poor plebeians some access to the ager publicus. There is
no evidence that before 367 plebeians had been legally denied the right to
occupy ager publicus, as is sometimes asserted, but it is likely enough that
that is what happened in practice. It is important to note that the Lex
Licinia merely imposed fines on those who held public land in excess of
the prescribed limit. It did not set up any machinery for the reclaiming of
such excess in the name of the state, nor did it contain any provision for
the assignation of public land to the plebs. It was concerned solely with
rights of occupation (possessio), and in this respect it differed from the
agrarian law of Tiberius Gracchus, for which it provided only a partial
model. This crucial distinction is a strong argument in favour of the
authenticity of the Lex Licinia, and clearly undermines the view that it
was a fictitious anticipation of the legislation of the Gracchi.

It is generally accepted that the Lex Licinia was a genuine early
example, if not in fact the earliest example, of a law to limit holdings of
public land (/ex de modo agrorum). The details of the prescribed limits are,
however, a matter of controversy. Livy and other sources maintain that a
maximum of 500 sagera was laid down for individual holdings; but in the
course of a precise digression on the subject Appian adds two further
clauses: that the number of animals that could be put to pasture on public
land should not exceed 100 cattle or 500 smaller animals (i.e. sheep or
pigs),?! and secondly that a certain number of the workers should be free
men (App. BCiv. 1.8.33). These details are said by some historians to be
anachronistic, more appropriate to the age of the great slave-run estates
(latifundia) of the second century B.c. than to the simple peasant society of
the fourth century. That may be so; in any event it is probable that the
two additional clauses mentioned by Appian were later modifications of
the original Lex Licinia. That does not mean, however, that we should
reject the statement of other sources, including authoritative writers like
Varro (Rust. 1.2.9), that the Lex Licinia imposed a limit of 500 iugera.

31 Tibiletti t950[G 1472}, 248fand Gabba 1958[Bs9], ad loc. have argued that these figures are not

alternatives, but should be taken as cumulative. This is possible, but the precise wording of Appian
should not be pressed too far.

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ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL PROBLEMS 329

The ager Romanus is likely to have embraced large areas of ager publicus
already at the beginning of the fourth century. We cannot know how
much of the territory of Veii was assigned to freeholders, how much was
left in the possession of the original inhabitants (who were given full
rights of ownership in accordance with the law of Roman citizens — ex
iure Quiritium), and how much was left as ager publicus, but on any
reasonable estimate the latter category must have been a substantial
proportion of the total; modern scholars have suggested as much as half
or two thirds — that is, c. 112,000 or ¢. 150,000 ingera.>2 If we remember
that this amount would have been an addition to the ager publicus that
already existed in the old ager Romanus, then it becomes evident that some
individual holdings might well have exceeded 500 ingera, or at least
threatened to do so. It is probable that the 500 ixgera limit, so far from
being a second-century figure applied anachronistically to the early
fourth century, was on the contrary a fourth-century figure that had
become little more than an archaic survival by the second, when some
landowners possessed estates embracing thousands of iagera of ager
publicus. That would explain the hysterical reaction of the Roman ruling
class when Ti. Gracchus proposed to enforce the ancient limit. A
moment’s reflection is sufficient to show that, unless some holdings of
ager publicus in 133 B.C. were vastly in excess of the ancient limit,
Gracchus’ land commission would not have been able to obtain much
land for distribution to the poor.

We may now turn to the problem of debt, which was one of the main
issues in the conflict over the Licinio-Sextian Rogations and had always
been a major grievance of the plebs. Once again it will be necessary to
digress briefly on the background, and to discuss the general nature and
causes of indebtedness in archaic Rome.

Debt?3 was a direct consequence of poverty and land hunger, and itself
gave rise to the condition of servitude to which many of the plebeians
were reduced. The institution of debt-bondage is well attested in early
Rome and has parallels in many other archaic societies. Indeed it can be
regarded as a defining characteristic of such societies, and a dominant
feature of their relations of production. In Rome the situation of debt-
bondage was known as nexum. Our sources, however, knew little more
about it than that, and were unable to define it in precise juridical terms.
It has been endlessly discussed in modern times, especially by students of
Roman law. It must be said, however, that most of the modern literature
is more concerned with abstract legal questions than with the problem of
setting the institution of mexum in its social and economic context.

32 De Martino 1980(G51], 26. The general point made in the text was already clearly set out by

H. M. Last in the first edition of CAH vi: see (Stuart Jones and) Last 1928(Hg2], 539—40.
33 For this issue in a fifth-century context cf. pp. 214ff.

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330 7J- THE RECOVERY OF ROME

A particular problem is the relationship between the institution of
nexum and the procedures outlined in the Twelve Tables for executing
judgement on defaulting debtors. Such persons were called addicti or
indicati, and following judgement they could be seized by their creditors
and either killed or sold into slavery across the Tiber.*4 Since these
penalties clearly did not befall the nex, it seems reasonable to accept the
conclusion reached by many historians and romanists that seizure (manus
iniectio) and bondage (#exum) were distinct institutions.*5 The most
probable interpretation is that nexum was the result of an agreement
voluntarily entered into by the debtor, who placed himself in the power
of the creditor in order to avoid the extreme consequences of a judge-
ment for default. This distinction seems to be reflected in the language of
Livy, who implies that it was normal practice for a poor man to ‘enter
into bondage’ (snire nexum).%

This interpretation can provide a solution to the puzzle of why a rich
man should have been prepared to issue a loan to an impoverished
peasant who had no prospect of repaying it. Since the loan was secured
upon the person of the debtor, the original transaction was made
precisely in order to createa state of bondage. The ‘loan’ was therefore a
payment for the labour services of a bondsman, who effectively sold
himself (or one of his children) to the ‘creditor’. From the lender’s point
of view the object of the exercise was to obtain the labour services of the
debtor rather than profit through interest. The difference between such
an arrangement and a wage contract is that the debt-bondsman is placed
under constraint, and his person is completely at the disposal of the
employer. In fact the most striking aspect of the tradition about nexam in
early Rome is the prevalence of stories of maltreatment of debtors, who
were apparently beaten and sexually abused as a matter of course.

The precise legal details of the nexwm contract are unknown, and there
is a wide range of possibilities. It is for example uncertain whether the
nexus had to give his services until his debt was repaid, whether he gave
his labour in lieu of interest, or indeed whether he gave it in lieu of
payment — i.e. ‘worked off’ his debt. In such a case the payment can
hardly be viewed as a loan at all, but rather as part of a service arrange-
ment. Equally we do not know whether the bondage was permanent or
restricted to an agreed term. In the latter case the bondage could have
become permanent in practice because of the necessity (for the debtor) of
renewal. It is probable that some or all of these possible variations
actually existed, and that sexum was a flexible institution. At all events we
may reasonably assume that its most important function was to provide

* See e.g. Watson 1975(G317], 121ff.

38 E.g. Mitteis 1901[G276], 96f; Watson 1975{G317], 111ff; Finley 1965(G65]}, 172 (= 1981,
158). % Livy vir.1g.5; cf. viit.28.2; on these texts see MacCormack 1967[G26o], 3 s0ff.

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ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL PROBLEMS 331

dependent labour for exploitation by large landowners. This conclusion
becomes inescapable if we accept the standard view that there was no
alternative source of available labour.

Although chattel slavery existed in early Rome,*’ and probably some
form of hired wage labour as well, these categories cannot have ac-
counted for more than a small part of the total labour force. For the most
part wealthy landowners must have relied upon the labour of their
dependants. Some of these may have been clients who were granted
privileged tenancies on lands controlled by their patrons; but many of
them will have been debt-bondsmen. If we accept this, together with the
tradition that much of the power of the patricians came from their
occupation of the ager publicus, we can see that the issues of ager publicus
and nexum are directly related. As the control of the public land became
concentrated in the hands ofa small class of wealthy aristocrats, more and
more peasants were reduced to servitude. They were denied the possi-
bility of working the ager publicus for their own benefit, and instead
worked it for the patricians under constraint. In this way the majority of
the peasants were prevented from rising above the level of subsistence,
and from obtaining a share of the surplus, which was entirely expropri-
ated by the patricians and their clients.

This state of affairs forms the background to the crisis of the early
fourth century. Livy refers frequently to the problem of debt at this
period, and argues that it was greatly exacerbated by the Gallic Sack.
There may be some justification for this opinion. Although the physical
damage caused by the invaders was superficial, and the long-term effects
on the economy slight or indeed negligible, nevertheless the presence of
a hostile barbarian army living off the land for several months must have
been catastrophic in the short term; many poor peasants must have lost
everything and been faced with starvation. In such circumstances a
growing incidence of debt and debt-bondage was inevitable.

The sources affirm that the problem was widespread and that large
numbers of citizens were affected. According to Livy the tribunes of 380
B.c. complained that one class of citizens had been ruined by the other
(‘demersam partem a parte civitatis’: Livy v1.27.6). The first major
upheaval that occurred in connexion with the debt crisis of the 380s B.c.
was the celebrated affair of M. Manlius Capitolinus, who was condemned
and executed in 384 for allegedly aiming at tyranny. The surviving
accounts of this obscure event are unreliable and highly elaborated
rhetorical narratives. Much is made of the fact that Manlius, who had
saved the Republic when he prevented the Gauls from storming the

37 Slavery was certainly important at the time of the Twelve Tables, when, according to Watson
(1975[G317], 82), ‘the slave presence at Rome was considerable’.

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332 7. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

Capitol, was later condemned for attempting to subvert it. There was
further irony in the manner of his death: he was hurled from the Tarpeian
rock (an outcrop of the Capitol), the very precipice from which he had
once thrown the Gallic intruders. In Livy Manlius is presented as a tragic
figure, consumed by pride and jealousy, and unable to tolerate the
superior reputation of Camillus (who plays a prominent but scarcely
comprehensible role in the affair). This romance was spun out of a very
few authentic facts. But we can be sure that some kind of upheaval did
take place, and that Manlius was a historical person.** This is borne out
by certain incidental details, for example the story that after his death the
Manlii decreed that in future no member of the clan should ever again
bear the given name Marcus (a rule that was rigidly observed, so far as we
know). But the important fact about the event, as far as this discussion is
concerned, is that it arose directly out of the debt crisis. Manlius obtained
the mass support of the plebs by taking up their cause (he was the first
patrician to do so, according to Livy v1.11.7) and paying their debts out
of his personal fortune.

Manlius was suppressed, but the crisis continued, in spite of attempts
to alleviate it by the foundation of colonies (this point is made explicitly
by Livy in connexion with Satricum — v1.16.G-7). Unrest over debt is
recorded in 380 and again in 378. In the latter year Livy mentions the
construction of the new city wall, and states that taxes levied to pay for it
led to increased indebtedness among the plebs. It is difficult to know
how much truth, if any, there is in this observation. It is certain that the
wall itself was an immense undertaking, and must have imposed heavy
demands on the available workforce. It was eleven kilometres long, over
ten metres high and four metres thick at the base. The huge blocks of tuff
with which it was built (measuring on average c. 1.5 m. X 0.5 m. X 0.6 m.)
came from the Grotta Oscura quarries near Veii, which was fifteen
kilometres from Rome. As far as I know the economics of the wall’s
construction have never been seriously studied.3° But even on the
roughest estimate it can be conjectured that the labour expended on the
tasks of quarrying, transporting and laying the hundreds of thousands of
blocks must have amounted to several million man-hours.

The problem is that we do not know who supplied the labour or how it
was organized. Livy speaks of taxes and censorial contracts, but in this he
may have been guilty of anachronism. It is perhaps more probable that
the government distrained directly on the labour services of Roman
citizens as a form of tax or an extension of military service, and only
contracted with specialized craftsmen and engineers, some of whom

38 He appears in the fasti as consul in 392 8.C., and is listed as snterrex in 388 (Livy v1.5.6).
3° The construction of the wall is treated in detail by Saflund 193 2[E130}. Saflund’s approach is
largely antiquarian, however, and is not much concerned with social and economic questions.

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ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL PROBLEMS 333

perhaps came from abroad. On the other hand if Livy is correct and the
whole of the work was farmed out to contractors (the fact that the wall
was built in distinct and clearly identifiable sections may give some
support to this idea), we still do not know how the contractors obtained
the necessary labour. It is not impossible that wealthy contractors used
the labour of slaves and debt-bondsmen, and were thus themselves the
sole beneficiaries of a major investment of funds raised from taxes, booty
and indemnities. The plebeians cannot have gained anything from the
work unless there was a considerable redistribution of resources through
the payment of wages. If this did not happen, Livy must be right that the
building of the wall increased the burdens of the poor.

The debt issue featured prominently in the struggle over the Licinio-
Sextian Rogations. The legislation apparently laid down that on all
outstanding debts the interest paid should be deducted from the capital
sum and the remainder paid off in three annual instalments (Livy
v1.35.4). The following decades saw further enactments restricting inter-
est rates and easing the terms of repayment (e.g. in 357 and 347). In 344
Livy records that severe penalties were inflicted on usurers (v11.28.9);
two years later a Lex Genucia prohibited interest charges altogether, a
law that remained in being for centuries, but was only rarely enforced (cf.
App. BCiv. 1.54.23 2ff). Under 352 Livy records a law which apparently
introduced a system of state mortgages and bankruptcy proceedings
under the supervision of a commission of five men, two patricians and
three plebeians.

Some of the details of these various reports may seem anachronistic or
improbable, but there is no reason in general to doubt that debt relief was
the object of much legislation in this period. It is true that our sources
only rarely refer to mexum; but that is almost certainly the result of bias.
Ancient writers naturally concentrated on the monetary aspects of the
debt problem, and refer constantly to monetary loans, usury and default,
because these were aspects that were familiar to them. In fact we are
dealing with a society that did not yet use coinage; and although that does
not rule out monetary transactions, it probably does mean that they were
not the most common forms of debt contract, especially where the
peasants were concerned. Rather, we should imagine loans of items such
as seed corn, with repayment and interest in kind. The silence of the
sources does not mean that the legislation of the mid-fourth century did
not also contain measures to alleviate the conditions and terms of debt-
bondage. The sexum certainly continued to exist (see e.g. Livy vu.
19.5 — 354 B.C.) until in 326 B.c. it was formally abolished by a Lex
Poetelia (Livy vi11.28; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. xvi.5; Cic. Rep. 1.34 (Varro,
Ling. vur.105 places the law in 313 B.c., when a C. Poetelius was
dictator)).

The Lex Poetelia marks the end of a long process of transformation.

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334 7. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

By that time the land hunger of the plebs had been largely satisfied by the
conquest and settlement of new territories. The improved economic
conditions that resulted from successful warfare and extensive schemes
of land assignation and colonization would have meant that the plebeians
were gradually freed from the necessity of entering into bondage. It is
probable that by the start of the Second Samnite War (327-304 B.c.) the
institution of nexum had already become a relic of a bygone age. Its
disappearance did not, however, put an end to indebtedness, which
persisted as a major social evil to the end of the Republic. The Lex
Poetelia merely abolished the nexum as a form of labour contract; from
now on only defaulting debtors were placed in bondage, following a
judgement in court.

The decline and eventual abolition of debt-bondage at the end of the
fourth century must have created a demand for an alternative supply of
labour to work the large estates of the rich. The demand was met by the
importation of slaves. The growing importance of slavery in fourth-
century Rome is indicated by the tax on manumissions which was
introduced in 35 78.C. (Livy v11.16.7). The tax implies that manumissions
were frequent, which in turn presupposes a large number of slaves. By
the end of the century freedmen were so numerous and so influential that
their status had become a major political issue. From the beginning of the
Samnite wars our sources regularly record mass enslavements of prison-
ers of war, a phenomenon which must imply that the Roman economy
was by that time largely dependent on slave labour.

The idea that Rome did not become a slave society until after the
Hannibalic War is unacceptable;*! the process was in fact already well
advanced by the end of the fourth century, together with the closely
related phenomenon of imperialism. War and conquest both created and
satisfied the demand for slaves. Finally we should note that the emancipa-
tion of the citizen peasantry and the increasing use of slave labour on the
land made it possible for the Roman state to commit a large proportion of
the adult male population to prolonged military service, and thus to
pursue a course of imperialism and conquest.

WI. CONSTITUTIONAL REFORMS AND THE RISE OF THE
NOBILITY

In the space of barely two generations the social and economic structures
of the Roman Republic had been radically transformed. This process
coincided with a reform of the constitution and a profound alteration in
the composition and character of the governing class. The change

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CONSTITUTIONAL REFORMS 335

resulted from the power struggle that preceded the legislation of 367
B.C., and it is to this political conflict that we must now turn.

In general we are better informed about the development of Roman
political institutions than about other matters, for two reasons: first
because they were a matter of direct concern to the ruling class, to which
the Roman historians and antiquarians themselves belonged, and upon
which they concentrated their attention; and secondly because the results
of the changes can be monitored through the evidence of the fasti and
other relatively reliable indicators. Even so, the background remains
obscure and controversial, and although we can document the changes
we are often a long way from being able to explain them. Once again the
literary sources do not seem to have been able to account adequately for
the facts at their disposal, and we cannot trust their interpretations of
them. In particular, the narrative of the Licinio-Sextian Rogations in
Livy (our main source) is a tissue of confusion and misunderstanding.

Livy’s version is roughly as follows: in 376 B.c. the plebeian tribunes
C. Licinius Stolo and L. Sextius Lateranus brought forward three
proposals (rogations). Two of these concerned land and debt (see above);
the third dealt with the admission of plebeians to the consulship (Livy
V1.35.4-5). Faced with patrician opposition and the veto of their own
colleagues, Licinius and Sextius nevertheless persisted with their de-
mands. The conflict lasted for ten years (376-367), during which the two
reformers were continually re-elected. They countered the veto of their
colleagues by themselves blocking the election of consular tribunes; fora
period of five years (375-371) the state was without magistrates and no
public business could be conducted (Diodorus xv.75 shortens the anar-
chy to one year). The crisis continued until 367, when the rogations were
finally enacted by the plebs and accepted by the patricians in a compro-
mise deal worked out by the aged Camillus, who emerged once again as
the hero of the hour (Livy v1.35—42).

Very little of this narrative can be accepted as it stands. But of the
following facts we can be reasonably certain. In 367 B.c. the consulship
was restored as the chief annual magistracy and made accessible to
plebeians. A new magistracy, the praetorship, was created; although the
praetor held smperium and could be appointed to military commands if
necessary, his principal tasks were judicial. At first the praetorship was
held only by patricians, but in 337 B.c. a plebeian was elected. Another
innovation was the appointment of two ‘curule’ aediles on the model of
the existing plebeian aediles. Though confined to patricians at first, the
curule aedileship was soon made accessible to plebeians, who held it in
alternate years. Finally the Board of Two in charge of sacred perfor-
mances (duumviri sacris faciundis) was enlarged to a Board of Ten
(decemviri), comprising five patricians and five plebeians.

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336 J. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

The most important of these measures was undoubtedly that concern-
ing the consulship. The background to the reform is puzzling. In 444 B.c.
it had apparently been decided that in certain years the consulship should
be suspended and that three or more ‘military tribunes with consular
power’ (tribuni militum consulari potestate) should hold office instead. We
do not know why this change was instituted, nor what determined the
decision to have tribunes rather than consuls in any given year (p. 192f).
Two possible explanations are offered by the sources, but both are
unsatisfactory. The idea that consular tribunes could provide more army
commanders in times of serious military crisis is open to the objection
that consular tribunes were often appointed when there was no obvious
need for several commanders; what usually happened was that one or
two of the consular tribunes commanded the army while the rest stayed
at home. In times of extreme emergency the Romans continued to
appoint dictators. An interesting fact noted by our sources is that no
tribune ever celebrated a triumph. On the other hand, the explanation
preferred by Livy, that the new magistracy was accessible to plebeians
and was devised in order to allow them to take some part in the
government, seems hard to accept in view of the fact that in the first few
decades of the experiment the military tribunes with consular power
were all patricians. Moreover it may not even be true that the patricians
had a complete monopoly of the consulship in the period down to 444;
some of the names in the fasti of the early fifth century appear to be
plebeian.*2

The only certain facts are that in the course of time consular tribunes
came to be elected more frequently than consuls, and replaced them
altogether after 392; that the number of consular tribunes in each annual
college gradually increased, until by the end of the fifth century six had
become the regular: number; and finally that from 400 onwards the
consular tribunes began to include men who were not patricians. The last
point inevitably raises the question of why there should have been such
resistance to the measure proposed by Licinius and Sextius, and why, if
plebeians were already eligible for the chief magistracy, the enactment of
the Licinio-Sextian Laws in 367 B.c. should have been regarded as sucha
landmark in the struggle for plebeian rights.

The answer provided by the tradition is that the law was a break-
through, not because it allowed plebeians to hold the consulship, but
because it required that one of the two annual consulships be reserved fora
plebeian. The difficulty with this interpretation is that the alleged rule
was not adhered to, and in several years between 355 and 343 both
consuls were patricians. This is described by some scholars as a ‘patrician

42 Cf. above, pp. 175ff (with a different conclusion).

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CONSTITUTIONAL REFORMS 337

reaction’.43 From 342 onwards, however, the two orders shared the
consulship every year without exception for nearly two centuries. The
introduction of this regular system is surely to be connected with a
mysterious set of plebiscites which some of Livy’s sources recorded
under the year 342 B.c. and attributed to the tribune L. Genucius (Livy
vit.42; and cf. below p. 345).

Strangely enough, however, Livy maintains that the reported Lex
Genucia allowed plebeians to hold both consulships, a possibility that was
not in fact realized until 172 B.c. Thus we find an apparent discrepancy
between the literary tradition and the evidence of the fasti concerning the
laws of 367 and 342. According to the annalists the first law stated that
one of the consuls must be plebeian, the second that both might be. The
fasti on the other hand suggest that the law of 367 made it possible for a
plebeian to hold one of the annual consulships, and that the law of 342
made it obligatory.

The second of these two alternatives is clearly preferable. If a law of
342 B.C. had given the voters freedom to elect two plebeian consuls they
would certainly have done so long before 172 8.c. The confusion in the
sources concerning the Lex Genucia is easily explained, however, if we
assume that it gave plebeians a guaranteed right to one of the consulships
but did not specify any similar guarantee for patricians. At the time it was
not necessary; the patricians’ right to hold one of the consulships would
have been taken for granted, and was in practice guaranteed by tra-
ditional custom.

In this connexion it is relevant to note that the Roman comitia made
their decisions not by a show of hands but by a complex system of group
voting. At the consular elections each of the constituent voting units (in
this case the centuries) returned two names, and the two candidates who
achieved a majority of the centuries were declared the winners. A curious
feature of the system was that the centuries voted, and declared their
results, in succession, and that as soon as a candidate achieved the votes
of 97 of the 193 centuries he was declared elected. When a second
candidate had gained 97 votes the election was considered complete and
the voters went home. But since each century had two votes it would
have been perfectly possible, if the people had had a free choice among all
the candidates, for more than two men to obtain the required number of
97 votes.

Historians usually offer a cynical interpretation of this strange feature,
and argue that its purpose was to give the power of decision to the
wealthier centuries which voted first. In the late Republic that was
indeed what happened. But it is much more probable — indeed virtually

43 Manzer 1920[H120}], 21. “ Staveley 1972[G726], 180ff.

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338 J. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

certain — that in earlier times (beginning in 342 B.C.) the presiding officer
at the consular elections asked each of the centuries to return the name of
a patrician and the name of a plebeian. It follows that a consular election
was not a competition for two places between an undifferentiated group
of candidates; rather, patrician candidates competed for one of the annual
places, and plebeian candidates competed for the other. As we shall see,
this fact has important implications for our understanding of the Roman
political system in the fourth and third centuries B.c.

When the power-sharing system was ended at the consular elections of
173 B.C. it was no doubt argued that the change did not contravene the
provisions of the Lex Genucia, since that law had only specified that
plebeians should have a reserved right to one of the consulships. In 342
B.C. it had not been necessary to go further than that in order to ensure
power-sharing. But once it was accepted that an all-plebeian college was
in accordance with the Lex Genucia, historians could easily have made
the mistake of supposing that it was what Genucius had originally
intended.

If it was the Lex Genucia that introduced the system of power-sharing,
it would seem to follow that the law of 367 B.c. had done no more than
restore the consulship in place of the military tribunes with consular
power. It has in fact been argued that the purpose of the Licinio-Sextian
Laws was administrative reform;‘5 the undifferentiated college of six
consular tribunes was replaced by a more sophisticated system of five
magistrates with specialized functions: two consuls, one praetor and two
curule aediles. In this respect the reform continued a trend that had been
initiated in 443 B.c. when the censorship was created. The difficulty with
this interpretation is that it does not explain why the law should have
been regarded as a victory for the plebs.

One possible answer is that the consular tribunate had not given the
plebeians a chance to exercise ‘real’ power, since they were only being
admitted to membership of a committee. It could be that whenever an
important task presented itself the patricians arranged for it to be given
to consular tribunes from their own class; thus in 379 B.c., according to
Livy, a military command was given to two patrician tribunes ‘because of
their superior birth’ (‘quod genere plebeios . . . anteibant’), and their
plebeian colleagues were left behind to guard the city (Livy v1.30.2-3).
Alternatively recourse could be had to a dictator, who would always bea
patrician. In these ways the patricians may have found the consular
tribunate easier to control and manipulate than a dual magistracy.

There may be some truth in an explanation such as this. But it does not
seem to tell the whole story. The tradition clearly implies that before 367

45 Eg. von Fritz 1950[H32], esp. 39ff.

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CONSTITUTIONAL REFORMS 339

plebeians had been systematically excluded from the magistracies. The
celebrated achievement of L. Sextius Lateranus, the first plebeian consul
in 366 B.c., becomes rather less of a breakthrough if in fact he simply
happened to be the first to hold an office after an administrative adjust-
ment. The point is surely that he was the first plebeian to hold any kind of
supreme Office, just as L. Genucius (cos. 362) was the first plebeian to
conduct a military campaign under his own auspices (Livy vu.6.8).
Unless we dismiss the whole of the Roman tradition as worthless, we
must accept that the Licinio-Sextian Laws radically changed the plebei-
ans’ rights in relation to the magistracies.

In one significant way L. Sextius did set a precedent. As far as we know
he was the first Roman to hold both plebeian and curule offices in the
course of his career. Admittedly our knowledge of the tribunician fasti at
this early period is extremely limited; but the tribunes of the plebs we do
hear about were the leaders of the plebeian movement, and it is surpris-
ing not to find any of them among the plebeian consular tribunes. Is it
possible that before 367 B.c. former tribunes (and aediles) of the plebs
were excluded from the curule magistracies?

The suggestion is admittedly hypothetical, but it has several points in
its favour. In the first place it is compatible with Momigliano’s attract-
ive theory that the so-called plebeian consuls of the early fifth century
were clients of the patricians, and were drawn from the ranks of the
conscripti (i.e. non-patrician senators). The conscripti were plebeian only in
the negative sense that they did not belong to the patriciate. They
certainly had nothing in common with the plebeians who took part in
secessions, and who formed the alternative plebeian ‘state’ that emerged
in the fifth century. Obviously the story of the Struggle of the Orders
would not make historical sense if the organized plebs had included all
Roman citizens who were not patricians. It is very much an open
question whether groups such as clients or conscripti should be classed as
plebeians at all.47

According to the model suggested by Momigliano, patricians and
plebeians were not antithetical categories; rather they were two compon-
ents of a wider and more complex structure which comprised a range of
variously differentiated groups (e.g. clients and conscripti). Once it is
accepted that there were Roman citizens who were neither patricians nor
plebeians, the problem of eligibility for the magistracies is easily re-
solved. We can simply assume that the consular tribunate (and before
that the consulship) were not exclusively reserved for patricians, but

“ The case is argued more fully in Cornell 1983[H18], 101-20.
‘7 For the general theory see Momigliano 1967{H6o0}, 199-221 and 1967[H61], 297-312 (= id.
Quarto Contribute 419-36 and 437-54); also 1975[A88], 293-332.

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340 7. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

were nevertheless closed to plebeians, and a fortiori to men who had held
plebeian office.

The assumption is not unreasonable, given the nature and aims of the
plebeian movement. The movement was not a ‘state within a state’
(which is how it is often described) so much as a separate organization
that was set up in opposition to the state and existed independently of it.
The patricians at first refused to recognize the plebeian organization;
then they attempted to isolate it by imposing disabilities on its leaders.
The Lex Canuleia (445 B.c.) revoked a ban on intermarriage between
patricians and plebeians; in the same way, perhaps, the Lex Licinia Sextia
of 367 removed a prohibition which excluded the leaders of the plebs
from the senate and the magistracies.

The most compelling argument in support of this reconstruction is
that it makes sense of the story of the Licinio-Sextian Rogations. The aim
of Licinius and Sextius was to abolish all forms of discrimination against
plebeians as such. The enactment of the law was a victory for the leading
plebeians, many of whom were wealthy, talented and politically ambi-
tious. Such men had been attracted into the vigorous and well-organized
plebeian movement in preference to the alternative of attaching them-
selves to a patrician patron. The latter course offered prestige and the
hope of honours, but no opportunity to exercise real power. On this view
the non-patricians who held the consular tribunate in the years before
367 were mere ciphers; not surprisingly they played no part in the
leadership of the reformed state.

However that may be, itis generally agreed that only a small group of
rich and aspiring plebeians derived any advantage from the constitu-
tional reforms of 367 B.c. In the struggle against patrician exclusiveness
this group had made common cause with the poor and had used the
institutions of the plebeian movement to gain entry into the ranks of the
ruling class. Whether the mass of the plebs benefited from their success is
more doubtful. The poor gained some temporary economic relief, but
lost control of their own organization. Once the plebeian leaders were
admitted into the ruling class on an equal footing with the patricians they
immediately acquired all the characteristics of the incumbent group and
ceased to represent the interests of the plebs. The plebeian leaders were
themselves wealthy landowners, and shared the same economic interests
as the patricians. The pointis well illustrated by the story that C. Licinius
Stolo, one of the legislators of 367, was later fined for occupying more
ager publicus than had been permitted by his own law (Livy vi1.16.9).
There is no way of knowing whether this story is historical. But if it is not
true, it is ben trovato.

It seems clear that the plebeian leaders, having scaled the patrician
citadel, pulled the ladder up after them. The process is a familiar one in all

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CONSTITUTIONAL REFORMS 341

societies. That the outcome of the Licinio-Sextian Laws should have
been the emergence of a joint patrician—plebeian aristocracy (the so-
called nobilitas) is not in the least surprising, and could perhaps have been
foreseen at the time. In Livy’s account of the struggle over the Rogations
the opposition to Licinius and Sextius is said to have come not only from
the patricians, but also from within the plebeian movement itself. The
two reformers were resisted both by their fellow tribunes and by a strong
radical element of the membership, who favoured the proposed laws on
land and debt but opposed the admission of plebeians to the consulship.
We are told that at one stage the plebeian assembly was on the point of
enacting the first two proposals and rejecting the third, but that Licinius
and Sextius were somehow able to insist that all three measures were
voted on together (Livy vi.39.2). Livy’s account naturally raises proce-
dural questions that we are not equipped to answer. Our ignorance in
this matter does not, however, give us the right to reject the whole
narrative out of hand, as some historians tend to do.*8 The basic point of
Livy’s story, that the Licinio-Sextian Rogations contained two very
different kinds of reform, is clearly true, and his suggestion that the
plebeian movement was sharply divided as a result is perfectly credible.
The radical opposition had good reason to be suspicious of the proposed
admission of plebeians to the consulship. Such a measure, they knew,
would destroy the plebeian movement.

The Licinio-Sextian Laws radically transformed the political structure
of the Roman state. By ending all forms of discrimination against
plebeians the reform brought about the complete assimilation of all non-
patrician Roman citizens, who were henceforth subsumed under the
general designation of plebs. The consequence was that the plebeian
movement lost its identity and ceased to exist as a separate organization.
Its institutions were incorporated into the structures of the state. The
tribunate and aedileship virtually became junior magistracies, open to all
except patricians, and were increasingly occupied by young nobles who
treated them as stepping stones to the consulship. Since these plebeian
offices no longer entailed disqualification from curule magistracies, the
men who held them did not consider themselves in any way bound to
promote the interests of the mass of the plebs (cf. Livy x.37.11, where
some tribunes are described as ‘slaves of the nobility’ — mancipia nobilium).
The plebeian assembly (concilium plebis) was assimilated to an assembly of
the people (comitia populi) and its resolutions (plebiscita) eventually be-
came equivalent to laws (/eges). The two terms are used interchangeably,
not only in the ancient literary sources, but also in official documents
from the late Republic.*9

48 E.g. von Fritz 19s0[H32], 11 and n. 17.
49 E.g. lex agraria of 111 B.c. (FIRA 1 n. 8) Il.77-82.

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342 7. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

The precise legal status of plebiscites in the fourth century is, however,
a matter of controversy. There are two basic problems. First we are told
that on three separate occasions, in 449, 339 and 287 B.c., the people
enacted that plebiscites should have the force of law and be binding on
the whole community. Some scholars have suggested that only the law of
287 (the Lex Hortensia) is historical and that the other two are inven-
tions. But this view runs foul of the second problem, namely that a
number of plebiscites are recorded in the period before 287 B.c. which
obviously did have legal force. For example the laws of Canuleius (445
B.C.), of Licinius and Sextius (367), and of Genucius (342) were in fact
plebiscites. The probable answer to the puzzle is that the law of 449
conceded the general principle that the plebeian assembly could enact
legislation, but in some way restricted its freedom to do so, for example
by making plebiscites subject to senatorial assent or to a subsequent vote
of the comitia populi. On this view the supposed restrictions would have
been partly removed by the law of 339, and completely abolished by that
of 287. It is not possible to say more than this on the evidence that is
presently available.5°

It has been argued in this chapter that the aim of the constitutional
reform of 367 B.c. was to remove the civil disabilities suffered by
plebeians, rather than to abolish the privileges enjoyed by patricians. In
fact, the patricians retained their prestige and many of their political
prerogatives; although these were gradually eroded in the course of the
next two centuries they were never entirely eliminated. The fact that a
very small number of patrician clans were able to claim the right to one of
the consulships each year until the second century B.c. should not be
overlooked. But their monopoly of important magistracies was rapidly
ended in the years after 367. The first plebeian dictator was appointed in
356, and a plebeian censor soon followed (in 351). An important stage in
the process is represented by the Leges Publiliae of 339, proposed by the
dictator Q. Publilius Philo (who was subsequently to become the first
plebeian praetor in 336). Three Publilian Laws are recorded. The first,
modelled on the Genucian plebiscite of three years earlier, extended the
system of power-sharing to the censorship. It too gave no specific
guarantee to the patricians, who nevertheless continued to provide one
of the censors as of right; no legislation was needed when two plebeian
censors were elected for the first time in 131 B.c. (Livy, Per. t1x). The
second Lex Publilia, ‘that a decision of the plebs should be binding on the
people’ (Livy vimt.12.14), has already been discussed. The third was a
closely related measure which laid down that the ‘authorization of the

50 See the discussion of e.g. Rotondi 1912[A114], 61-71; Scullard 1980[A119], 469-70, n. 20; and
above p. 223.

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CONSTITUTIONAL REFORMS 343

Fathers’ (auctoritas patrum) should be given before a law was voted on by
the comitia populi rather than afterwards. The ‘Fathers’ (patres) were the
patrician senators, and their right to sanction the people’s decisions
before they could become law was apparently a powerful weapon in their
arsenal.

It is very uncertain precisely what the auctoritas patrum amounted to (p.
185), and what effect the Lex Publilia had on the people’s freedom to
make laws. It does not seem likely that the auctoritas patrum gave the
patrician senators a general right of veto over measures of which they did
not approve. If it had been a general power of assent the Lex Publilia
would have increased rather than diminished the power of the patricians;
obviously the capacity to kill off a proposal before it could be put to the
vote would have been more effective than the right to sanction a decision
that had already received the support of a majority of the people. But
Publilius’s law was certainly a liberal measure which enhanced popular
sovereignty. It follows that the auctoritas patrum must have been some
kind of confirmation that the law in question was technically acceptable,
and in particular that it did not contain any religious flaws (the word
auctoritas is etymologically related to augury, and implies religious
‘authority’). The Lex Publilia therefore reduced the auctoritas patrum toa
formality by laying down that any proposed measure had to be checked
for religious defects in advance of the people’s vote. It took away the
patricians’ power to overturn a popular enactment on a technicality.

The auctoritas patrum was one aspect of a more general religious aura
that surrounded the patriciate. It was believed that the gods were
especially intimate with the patricians, who consequently had exclusive
control of many religious institutions and monopolized the chief priest-
hoods. The change in the composition of the committee in charge of
sacred performances (decemviri sacris faciundis, see above) in 367 was the
first attempt to break the patricians’ hold on the priesthoods. The second
and decisive stage occurred in 300 B.c. when a plebiscite (the Lex
Ogulnia) admitted plebeians to the two major colleges of priests on a
power-sharing basis (Livy x.6—9). Four plebeians were added to the four
existing pontifices, and five plebeians were added to the four existing
augurs. These priests held office for life; but whenever death created a
vacancy in one of the colleges a successor was chosen from the same
order as the deceased (see e.g. Livy xxmI.21.7). Thus the ratio of
plebeians to patricians in the colleges of pontiffs and augurs remained
constant (at 4:4 and 5:4 respectively) until the end of the Republic. In the
late Republic only minor archaic priesthoods, such as the corporation of
the Salii, were exclusively filled by patricians.

The character of the new regime that took power in 366 B.c. can be
illustrated by an analysis of the consular fasti, which tell an interesting

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344 J. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

story. They make it clear that the beneficiaries of the reform were the
aspiring plebeian leaders together with a relatively small group of
patrician associates who supported them. The principal figures of this
liberal or progressive wing of the patriciate were C. Sulpicius Peticus, L.
Aemilius Mamercinus and Q. Servilius Ahala (who between them shared
all the patrician consulships in the years 366-361), and M. Fabius
Ambustus (censor in 363 and father-in-law of Licinius Stolo), who is said
by Livy to have given active support to the reformers.

The victory of this ‘centre party’ (as it has been called) was won at the
expense of the rest of the patricians, who found themselves excluded
from office in the years after 367. It is striking, for instance, that not one
of the eighteen patricians who held office as consular tribunes in the years
370-367 survived to hold a consulship after the reform;>! moreover
several old established patrician clans faded away altogether and do not
reappear in the fasti after 367 B.c. ‘Disappearing’ patrician gentes include
the Horatii, Lucretii, Menenii, Verginii, Cloelii and Geganii — to men-
tion only some of those that are well represented among the consular
tribunes in the early fourth century. One could add the Sergii and the
Iulii, who came in from the cold only at the end of the Republic.*?

Another conspicuous change is that in the decades after the Licinio—
Sextian Laws office-holding was restricted to a small and exclusive
group. The number of available opportunities was drastically curtailed,
not only by the reduction of the size of the supreme annual college from
six to two (or three, if the praetorship is included), but also by the
frequency of the practice of ‘iteration’ — that is, the repeated tenure of the
same office by the same man.

Iteration was extremely common in the reformed state. In the 25 years
from 366 to 342 B.C. the 50 annual consulships were shared by only 27
men. The pattern is remarkable. Not only were 35 of the consulships (70
per cent) held by men who were consul more than once; even more
striking is the fact that a majority of the individual consuls (15/27 = 55.5
per cent) held the office more than once. It follows that iteration was the
norm at this period, and that any man who reached the consulship had a
better than average chance of being consul again. This situation has no
parallel in the entire go0-year history of the consulship.

The pattern also contrasts sharply with the record of consular
tribunates in the period before 367. Although iteration had been frequent
under the old regime, it had not unduly restricted the number of
opportunities available to aspiring office holders. In the 25 years from
396 to 367 B.c. (excluding the ‘anarchy’) some 75 individuals were

51 Data in MRR 1.110ff. The point was made already by Miinzer 1920[H120}, 10-11.
52 Data in Ranouil 1975[H74], 205 ff.

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CONSTITUTIONAL REFORMS 345

consuls or consular tribunes, a sharp contrast with the 27 who held the
consulship in the corresponding period after the reform.

No doubt it was the exclusiveness of the newly formed nobility, as well
as the patrician reaction after 35 5, that prompted a shake-up in 342 B.c. In
that year Livy reports a mutiny among the soldiers who were serving in
Campania (v11.38—42). This mysterious affair, which is linked to a debt
crisis and a secession in other sources, is one of several indications that
the Roman state underwent a major upheaval at this time. The others
include a complete volte-face in Roman foreign policy in 341 (see below,
p. 360), and the appearance of several ‘new men’ in the consular fasti in
the following years.

All these phenomena must be in some way connected with the Leges
Genuciae of 342. Two of the Genucian laws, those concerning usury and
the sharing of the consulship between patricians and plebeians, have
already been referred to (above, pp. 333 and 337). The third law
apparently provided that no one could hold more than one magistracy at
a time, or hold the same office twice within ten years. The latter clause
seems to be reflected in the fas¢i. In the next twenty years no one held two
consulships within ten years of each other, with one doubtful exception.
The contrast with the preceding period is so striking that we must
conclude that the Lex Genucia was not only enacted but enforced.53 The
election in 321 of two able and experienced men (L. Papirius Cursor II,
Q. Publilius Philo III), in both cases in breach of the ten-year rule, was
clearly a response to exceptional circumstances; 321 B.C. was after all the
year of the Caudine Forks (p. 370). The general crisis of the Second
Samnite War caused a revival of frequent iterations. Not for the last time
the Romans sacrificed constitutional principle on the altar of military
expediency. In the space of just thirteen years (326-313) L. Papirius
Cursor managed to hold five consulships, two of them in succession (in
320 and 319).

But Cursor’s remarkable record was an exception and stands out
against a more general trend away from multiple iterations and towards a
wider distribution of consular honours among the elite. In 295 B.c.,
significantly a year of extreme crisis, the two consuls were men who
between them could boast nine consulships (Q. Fabius Maximus
Rullianus V, P. Decius Mus IV), but nothing like this was to occur again
until the Second Punic War, when military exigencies caused another
temporary reversion to multiple iterations. In the period from 295 to 215

53. This has frequently been denied, even by Mommsen (1887-8[Ag1], 1.519 with n. 5). It is true
that one of the consuls of 341 and one of those of 340 had held the consulship a few years previously;
but we need not suppose that the law was made retrospective. The possible exception is L. Papirius
Crassus, cos. 336 and 330; but there may have been two men of this name at this period. See F. Miinzer
1949[H121], 1035-6; 1949{H122]}, 1036.

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346 7. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

only three men held three consulships, of whom M’. Curius Dentatus
(cos. III, 274) was the last. The most telling statistic is that in the thirty-
five years from 289 to 255 the seventy consulships were shared among
sixty-five different individuals; in other words there was virtually no
iteration at all.

We may conclude by observing that from the end of the Third Samnite
War (290 B.c.) until the dictatorship of Julius Caesar Roman nobles
could normally expect, at best, to be consul just once in their careers.
Second consulships were rare, and indeed were prohibited by law in 151
B.c. Exceptions to this general rule occurred only at times of extreme
military emergency or civil strife (the Hannibalic War, the invasion of the
Cimbri, the domination of Cinna). The pattern of office-holding in the
period 366-290 B.c. is therefore significantly different from that which
prevailed in the last two and a half centuries of the Republic. This fact
surely has important implications for our understanding of the structure
of Roman politics in the fourth century.

In the ‘classical’ Republic, say from 287 to 133 B.c., the state was in the
hands of a senatorial oligarchy. By the end of the third century the senate
controlled all aspects of government activity, and had subordinated the
executive magistrates (who were themselves senators) to its authority.
This is not surprising in view of the fact that individual senators held
high office only occasionally and for short periods. The senate’s opin-
ions, and especially those of its leading members who had themselves
been consuls, effectively controlled those individual senators who hap-
pened to be exercising magisterial imperium at any particular time. It is
generally agreed that the most important mode of control was the
restriction of the possibility of iteration. In this way the senatorial
oligarchy was able to curb the ambition of individuals and to prevent
them from exercising independent power (see further below, pp. 392ff).

In the fourth century, evidently, matters were very different. It should
be emphasized that we know little about either the organization or the
function of the senate at this time. But there are good grounds for
supposing that in the fourth century the senate did not possess the wide-
ranging supervisory powers that it had in the classical period. In later
practice there are many residual traces of a system in which major
initiatives, such as the founding of colonies, the declaration of war and
the conclusion of treaties, were decided on by popular assemblies sum-
moned by the magistrates.

There is no reason to suppose that in the fourth century popular
enactments were merely formal ratifications of decisions that had already
been taken in advance (and in secret) by the senate. That is not to say that
the advisory role of the senate was unimportant; but when the Roman

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APPENDIX: CHRONOLOGY OF THE FOURTH CENTURY B.C. 347

state was a relatively compact territorial unit with only simple admini-
strative needs, the popular assemblies probably took a more central part
in determining policy than they did later. Again, the senate’s control of
finance would have been less important and perhaps less absolute in the
pre-coinage economy of the fourth century than in the relatively complex
world of the second. In the third and second centuries the senate’s right
to terminate or extend the ‘mperium of a serving commander (prorogatio)
was a crucial weapon of control. But in the fourth century the practice of
prorogatio hardly existed. Moreover the earliest known instance, the
appointment of Q. Publilius Philo pro consule against Naples in 326 B.c.,
was the result of a popular vote (Livy viit.23.11—-12).

We must surely reckon with the possibility that in the fourth century
political power rested not with a collective oligarchy but with a handful
of talented and charismatic individuals who shared the senior
magistracies among themselves and largely directed the policy of the
state. In the seventy-two years between 366 and 291 B.c. fifty-four
consulships were held by only fourteen individuals, thirty-eight of them
by just eight, each of whom was consul four or more times. They include
the patricians C. Sulpicius Peticus, L. Papirius Cursor, M. Valerius
Corvus and Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus, and the plebeians M.
Popillius Laenas, C. Marcius Rutilus, Q. Publilius Philo and P. Decius
Mus. These men and their associates ruled by virtue of the offices which
they held, and their tenure of office was dependent on popular appeal and
electoral success. This point highlights the fact that the system involved a
substantial democratic element that was largely absent in the later period
when the senate controlled the government and the outcome of the
annual elections had little effect on the general direction of policy.

APPENDIX
The chronology of the fourth century B.c.

The Romans dated events by the names of the annual consuls. For us to
give a ‘Christian’ date (B.c. or A.D.) to any given consular year is a
relatively straightforward matter for the period after 300 B.c., for which
we possess a full and accurate list of consuls (the fasti). Before 300 B.c.
matters are more complicated because the fas#i are reconstructed differ-
ently by different sources, and because there are discrepancies between
the several versions of the fasti and chronological data provided by
independent evidence.

The present chapter has followed standard procedure in using the so-
called ‘Varronian’ chronology. This canonical system, established by
scholars (including Varro) at the end of the Republic, placed the founda-

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348 J. THE RECOVERY OF ROME

tion of the city in 753 B.c., the first consuls in 509, the Gallic Sack in 390
and the first plebeian consul in 366. This is the system followed by the
Fasti Capitolini, the inscribed lists of consuls and triumphs which were
set up in the Forum in the time of Augustus.

The problem is that the Varronian chronology is a secondary recon-
struction based on an artificially revised version of the fasti. In particular
there are clear signs of an attempt to lengthen the chronology by means
of bogus insertions into the list. The most notorious are the four so-
called ‘dictator-years’ —i.e.(Varronian) 3 33, 324, 309 and 301 B.c. Ineach
of these years, according to the Fasti Capitolini, a dictator and magister
equitum held office instead of consuls, and gave their names to the year. It
is obvious, however, that the dictator-years were a relatively late fabrica-
tion. They do not appear in any sources other than the Fasti Capitolini,
and it is impossible to believe that such an extraordinary constitutional
anomaly as a dictator-year should have gone unnoticed by historians if it
had had any foundation either in fact or in tradition. The point can be
further confirmed by other means (see for an example, p. 374 n. 29).

The Fasti Capitolini also include five years of ‘anarchy’ (Varronian
375-371 B.C.) during the turmoil of the Licinio-Sextian Rogations, in
which no curule magistrates were elected. Livy’s version is similar
(v1.35.10, and cf. above, p. 335), but Diodorus, more plausibly, has only
one year without magistrates. The five-year anarchy is obviously un-
likely to be historical, and is best seen as a device, similar to the dictator-
years, for extending the chronology of the fourth century. The need for
such lengthening was already implicit in the Roman historical tradition
at an early stage. For example Fabius Pictor wrote that the election of the
first plebeian consul (Varronian 367 B.c.) occurred in the twenty-second
year after the Gallic Sack (Gell. NA v.4.3), although the fas#i record only
nineteen colleges of consular tribunes for the period in question. Again,
Polybius maintains (11.18.6) that the Gauls returned to Latium
(Varronian 361 B.C.) in the thirtieth year after the Sack, a period covered
in the fasti by only twenty-five colleges of consular tribunes.

The most important piece of independent evidence was the synchro-
nism of the Gallic Sack with the Peace of Antalcidas and the siege of
Rhegium by Dionysius of Syracuse. The synchronism, which was re-
corded by Polybius (1.6.2), but was probably worked out by an earlier
historian such as Philistus or Timaeus, would place the Sack in the spring

3 But note that the years of the Varronian era, which are reckoned in numerical sequence from 21
April 753 B.c. (the traditional foundation day), are equated in the Fasti Capitolini with the years in
which the consuls entered office. Thus for example the consuls who took office in the early months
of 362 B.c. (Q. Servilius Ahala II, L. Genucius Aventinensis) are placed in a(b) u(rbe) c(ondita) 391
(i.e. 21 April 363-20 April 362).

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APPENDIX: CHRONOLOGY OF THE FOURTH CENTURY B.C. 349

of the Julian year 386 B.c. The Romans knew that the Sack had occurred
under the consular tribunes Q., K. and N. Fabius Ambustus, Q.
Sulpicius Longus, Q. Servilius Fidenas and P. Cornelius Maluginensis;
but in the fasti only eighty-one colleges of consular tribunes and consuls
were listed between that year and the consulship of M. Valerius Corvus V
and Q. Appuleius Pansa (= Varronian 300 B.c.).

Those who attempted to establish a general chronology in the late
Republic would have been able to infer from such evidence that the
available versions of the fas¢i were deficient in the period after the Sack.
In particular, the synchronism of the Sack with the Peace of Antalcidas
would have indicated that the list of magistrates was four years short. It is
probable that the four dictator-years and the extension of the ‘anarchy’
from one to five years were alternative ways of lengthening the fasti by
the appropriate amount. But by adopting both devices, the Varronian
chronology placed the Sack in 390, four years earlier than the Polybian
date.

The precise mechanics of the Varronian chronology need not concern
us. The important point for the present purpose is that the later-
republican annalists had access to several rival chronologies, which
differed from one another by only a few years at most. But the
discrepancies, though trivial in themselves, may have created confusion
in the historical tradition by causing annalists to duplicate events which
their sources placed in different years.

The frequency of such ‘doublets’ is debatable, but in the view of the
present writer should not be exaggerated. We should note that what
really mattered as far as the Romans were concerned was the consular
year in which an event took place, rather than the location of that year in
any general scheme of absolute chronology. For instance, one historian
has recently written that the capture of Veii occurred ‘in (Varronian) 396
according to Livy, in 388 according to Diodorus’.5> This implies that
Livy and Diodorus reported the fall of Veii under different years; but in
fact they place the event in the same ‘Roman’ year — the consular
tribunate of L. Titinius, P. Licinius, P. Maelius, Q. Manlius, Cn.
Genucius and L. Atilius; it is only their general schemes of chronology
that are different. In fact Livy, who omits the dictator-years and there-
fore does not follow the Varronian chronology, places the fall of Veii in
391 B.c.,5° whereas Diodorus synchronizes the year in question with
Olympiad 96.4, the archonship of Demostratus (i.e. 393/2 B.C.).

55 Harris 1971[Jt75], 41-
% Livy’s chronology is five years adrift from the Varronian at this point, because he omitted
not only the four dictator-years, but also the consular tribune year Varronian 376 B.c. (see MRR

1.108-9).

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350 7J- THE RECOVERY OF ROME

Many readers of Livy are quite unaware that his chronological scheme
is different from the Varronian one. The reader is not affected by this
because Livy records events under the heading of the annual magistrates,
who by a simple process of conversion can be given their appropriate
Varronian dates (which are inserted in the margins of many modern
editions). No doubt ancient readers were equally unconcerned about the
absolute chronology of the annalistic histories they consulted. A histo-
rian using a variety of annalistic sources would be unlikely to duplicate
events which were ‘dated’ differently by his sources, provided that they
were recorded in the same consular year.5’

57 On the rival chronologies of the republican period see further, pp. 625ff.

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CHAPTER 8

THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

T. J. CORNELL

I. ROME’S FIRST STRUGGLE WITH THE SAMNITES, THE DEFEAT
OF THE LATINS AND THE FORMATION OF THE
ROMAN COMMONWEALTH

The emergence of the nobility and the competition for honours among
its individual members, described in the previous chapter, were directly
related to the development of Roman imperialism. The great political
figures who dominated public life in the second half of the fourth century
B.C. initiated and directed a policy of military conquest which in the space
of little more than half a century brought all of peninsular Italy under
Rome’s control. This process was dominated by the struggle between
Rome and the Samnites, which began in 343 B.c.

The Samnites were a powerful federation of tribes who occupied a
large area of the southern central Appennines. Samnium was a land-
locked region, roughly rectangular in shape, which stretched diagonally
from the river Sagrus (Sangro) in the north-west to a point beyond the
Aufidus (Ofanto) in the south-east. On its north-eastern side it was
separated from the coast by the lands of the Frentani and Apuli, and on
the south-western side by those of the Volsci, Sidicini, Aurunci,
Campaniand Alfaterni. The precise line of the frontier in 343 B.c. cannot
be drawn with any certainty; its probable course is most easily indicated
on a map (see Map 5).!

The area defined by these conjectural limits measures some
12,500 km.? Both in antiquity and in more recent times Samnium seems
to have been densely populated by comparison with other rural areas of

1 T have followed E. T. Salmon’s reconstruction of the borders of Samnium (Salmon 1967{J 106],
23-7). It has been argued on the basis of the fourth-century Perip/us of the Ps. Scylax (x1.15) that the
Samnite territory stretched from coast to coast (e.g. De Sanctis 1907-64[A37], 11.266); but the
reference is probably to the territories of the Frentani (on the Adriatic side) and the Alfaterni (on the
Tyrrhenian), who were not members of the Samnite League. Cf. Salmon 1967[J106], 40-1.

351

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STRUGGLES WITH THE SAMNITES AND LATINS 353

peninsular Italy. On the basis of modern calculations the total population
of Samnium in 343 B.c. can be estimated at around 450,000 persons.”

The region consists of a mountainous plateau intersected by steep re-
entrant valleys, especially those formed by the upper reaches of the rivers
Sangro, Trigno and Biferno, which give access to central Samnium from
the north-east. On the southwestern side the land rises steeply from the
Volturnus valley to the great massif of the Mons Tifernus (Montagna del
Matese), which is the backbone of the region. Even so, Samnium is
relatively easily traversed, at least in peacetime; and although more than
65 per cent of it rises above 300 m., a surprisingly large proportion of its
land surface is capable of arable cultivation.

The upland valleys contain many pockets of fertile agricultural land,
which were densely settled even in the pre-Roman period. Archaeology
has confirmed this pattern of dense rural settlement, and has led to a
modification of the traditional picture of the Samnite economy as
essentially pastoral.3 Stockraising, especially of sheep and pigs, was
nevertheless an important element in the economy. It is probable that
Samnite shepherds practised transhumance — that is, the seasonal move-
ment of flocks from the plains to the mountains in the summer months —
a system that has persisted in the central Appennines since time
immemorial.*

But if archaeological research has shown that the Samnite economy
was more complex and diversified than was once assumed, it still remains
true in general that before the Roman conquest the region was poor and
relatively backward, with few, ifany, urban centres, no coinage and little
trade. The inhabitants supplemented their livelihood by warfare and
raiding, and in times of extreme hardship their only remedy was forced
emigration in the form of a ver sacrum (see above, p. 292).

The political organization of the Samnites was correspondingly sim-
ple and unsophisticated. The basic local unit was the pagus, a canton
comprising one or more villages (vici), which was economically self-

2 The estimate is based on the calculations of Afzelius 1942[J134]. Afzelius concluded (from
Polybius) that the population density of Samnium could be reckoned at 37.8 persons per km.? (p.
106). He argued further that the pattern of relative density among the various regions as given by
Polybius was confirmed by the figures for the rural population recorded in the 1936 census (p. 123).
Afzelius himself reckoned that the area controlled by the Samnite League in ¢. 350 B.c. measured
21,595 km.2, and gave the total free population as over 650,000 persons (p. 138); but he included the
territory of the Frentani, Larinates and Alfaterni, and large parts of Apulia and Lucania in his total. If
these are excluded, we arrive at a total of 12,665 km.? for Samnium proper, a more accurate estimate
than the 14,000-15 ,o00 given by Beloch (1926[A1 2], 368—9) or the 15,000 of Salmon (1967[J 106}, 27
and n. 4).

3 Note especially the field survey, by a British team, of the Biferno (Tifernus) valley: Barker
1977[J9], 20ff and Barker ef a/. 1978{J11), 135. Some good general comments in La Regina
1975(B352], 273. For a concise statement of the traditional view see Tibiletti 1978[J119], 33.

4 See e.g. Varro, Rust. 1.2.10; 111.17.9; CIL 1x.2438 (‘the Saepinum inscription’). On
transhumance in general see Skydsgaard 1974[G14o], 7ff, (Gabba and) Pasquinucci 1979{G76].

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

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356 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

sufficient and possessed a large measure of political autonomy. Each
pagus was probably governed by an elected magistrate called a meddiss
(Latin meddix — Festus 110 L). A group of such pagi would together form
a larger tribal unit, for which the Oscan term was fowfo (Latin populus).
The chief magistrate of the foufo had the title meddiss tovtiks (meddix
tuticus). The governmental system of the fowfo can be described as
‘republican’ rather than monarchical on the technical grounds that the
meddix tuticus was an annually elected official; but in more general terms it
was a very simple political structure in which military, judicial and
religious functions were performed by the same man. Some sort of
electoral machinery must be presupposed, but of the composition and
functions of tribal councils or assemblies we know nothing at all.5

The Samnite League consisted of four tribal groups, each forming a
separate fouto. Of these the Hirpini inhabited the southern part of the
country; their main centres were Aequum Tuticum (Sant’Eleuterio) and
Malventum (Benevento). The Caudini occupied the western edge bor-
dering on Campania, their chief places being Caudium (Montesarchio),
Trebula Balliensis (Treglia), Saticula (S. Agata dei Goti) and Telesia
(Telese). The Carricini, the smallest of the four, lived in the extreme
north-east; their political centre was probably Cluviae (Casoli). Finally
the Pentri, the largest group, occupied central and eastern Samnium, and
had centres at Bovianum (Boiano), Saepinum (Sepino) and Aufidena
(Castel di Sangro?).

The character of these ‘centres’, which are referred to in literary
narratives of the Samnite wars, is uncertain. The general pattern of
settlement in the pre-Roman period seems to have been one of scattered
villages with associated hill forts and rural sanctuaries. The functional
separation of these three kinds of site is characteristic of a non-urban or
pre-urban society.6 For instance, the elaborate sanctuary at
Pietrabbondante seems to have been a religious meeting place for the
people of the surrounding districts, but it did not form part of a large
nucleated settlement.

The hill forts are the most significant physical relics of pre-Roman
Samnium (Map 8). Standing ruins, in the form of rough polygonal walls,
can still be seen on remote hilltops in many parts of the central
Appennines. Some of them, for instance those at Monte Vairano, Castel
di Sangro and Alfedena, were the sites of substantial permanent settle-
ments; but these places were hardly cities, and are in any case exceptional.
For the most part the hill forts are small and inaccessible, and cannot have
been places of permanent habitation. No doubt they were used as

5 A full account of the meagre evidence in Salmon 1967[] 106], 77-101.
6 La Regina 1975(B352), 273.

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STRUGGLES WITH THE SAMNITES AND LATINS 357

temporary refuges, although some of them may have had a more positive
strategic purpose as military strongholds.’

Of the organization of the league we know only what we are told by
Livy, who refers to some kind of central council and a single com-
mander-in-chief who led the Samnites in war (e.g. 1X. 1.2} 3.9; X.12.2 etc.).
Otherwise the sources tell us nothing, apart from implying that the
Samnites maintained a remarkable unity in the face of common enemies.
The individual tribes are hardly ever mentioned by name in the surviving
accounts of the Samnite wars, which almost always refer simply to the
Samnites.

This sense of national solidarity distinguishes the four tribes of the
Samnite League from their neighbours. But we should not forget that in
cultural terms the Samnites belonged to a much wider community of
Oscan-speaking peoples who as a result of migrations in the fifth century
(see above p. 284) had spread throughout the Mezzogiorno. The only
exceptions were southern Apulia and the Sallentine peninsula in the
extreme south-east (the ‘Heel’), where a native culture and language
persisted in isolation from the rest of Italy, and the coastal regions
occupied by the surviving Greek colonies. Otherwise Bruttium,
Lucania, northern Apulia, Samnium and Campania were all inhabited by
peoples who spoke the same language and shared common religious
beliefs, social customs and political institutions. This Oscan koine also
included the peoples of the Abruzzi region which, then as now, belonged
economically, socially and culturally to the South, although it is geo-
graphically on a parallel with Rome. The region was a patchwork of
fragmented tribal groups: the Marsi, Paeligni, Vestini, Marrucini and
Frentani.

It only remains to discuss the situation in Campania. Here the Oscan-
speaking invaders had occupied a wealthy and highly developed region
which had been colonized by both Greeks and Etruscans and in which
urbanized city-states were well established. Although the immediate
effects of the Oscan invasion at the end of the fifth century were dramatic,
the city-states soon began to flourish once again under their new
overlords. A remarkable mixture of influences led to the formation, in
the fourth century, of a distinctive Campanian culture. Many of the old
Greek and Etruscan cultural traditions and institutional structures sur-
vived, and were adapted to the social needs and values of the Oscan

7 The matter is much disputed. The whole subject of central Italian hill forts still awaits a
comprehensive and systematic study. For the present see the brief general survey of La Regina
1975{B352], 271ff. The excellent account of Conta Haller 1978[B314] unfortunately restricts its
attention to the region of the lower Volturnus valley. Cf. the review by E. Gabba 1979[B3 31], 171-2.
On this and other matters I have received invaluable assistance from S. P. Oakley, who has treated
the subject extensively in his unpublished PhD thesis, A Commentary on Livy Book IX, 1-28
(Cambridge, 1984).

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358 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

Map 8 Central Samnium.

Key to bill-forts

1. Alfedena 8. Monte San Nicola

2. Rivisondoli 9. Agnone

3. Roccaraso 10. Monte Rocca Labate (Belmonte del Sannio)
4. Rocca Cinquemila 11. Staffoli

5. Castel di Sangro (Aufidena) 12. Pietrabbondante (Herculaneum?)

6. Castel di Sangro (Aufidena) 13. Monte Saraceno

7. Monte Cavellerizo 14. Monte Miglio (S. Pietro Arellana)

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STRUGGLES WITH THE SAMNITES AND LATINS 359

conquerors. A case in point is their addiction to horse-breeding and
cavalry prowess. As M. W. Frederiksen noted, this horsiness can hardly
have been brought with them from Samnium; in fact it is virtually certain
that the Campanian cavalry, which played such an important part in the
political history of Capua in the fourth and third centuries, was originally
a Greek institution.®

An intense rivalry existed between these city-states. In the fourth
century the cities of northern Campania formed a league, centred on
Capua and led by a meddix tuticus. Among the member states of this
confederation were Casilinum, Atella and Calatia. Other Campanian
towns such as Nola and Abella remained separate, while the Alfaterni in
the south formed their own league under the hegemony of Nuceria.
Naples, the only surviving Greek city in Campania, was strongly affected
by Oscan influences, but retained its political independence. An equally
strong antagonism existed between them and their Samnite kinsmen in
the interior. This tangled web of internecine rivalry and conflict was
further complicated, in 343 B.c., by the intervention of Rome.

The events of the so-called First Samnite War are described only by
Livy, whose account (v1.3 2~38.1) can be briefly summarized. In 343 the
Samnites attacked the Sidicini (an Oscan-speaking people about whose
history and culture we have no specific information), and subsequently
the Campanians, who had gone to their assistance. When the Samnites

15. Bosco Pennataro (Rionero Sannitico) 36. Terravecchia

16. Carovilli 37. Monte Saraceno (Cercemaggiore)
17. S. Maria dei Vignali (Pescolanciano) 38. Monte Cila

18. Chiauci 39. Castello d’Alife

19. Civitanova 40. Faiccio

zo. Duronia 41. Monte Acero

21. Trivento (Terventum) 42. Monte Pugliano (Telesia)

22. Montefalcone 43. Dragoni

23. Serra Guardiola (Guardalfiera) 44. Monte Auro

24. Frosolone (Cominium?) 45. Presenzano

25. Castropignano 46. S. Pietro in Fine

26. Monte Vairano 47. Monte Castellone (Torcino)

27. Campobasso 48. Letino

28. Ferrazzano 49. Capriati

29. Vinchiaturo 50. Monte S. Croce (Venafrum)

30. Boiano (Bovianum) 51. Monte Sambucaro

31. Boiano (Bovianum) 52. Longano

32. Monte Crocella (Boiano) 53. La Romana (Castel Romano)

33. Campochiaro 54. Monte S. Paolo (Colli al Volturno)
34. Le Tre Torrette 55. Monte Castellone (Montenero Valcocchiara)
35. Guardiaregia 56. Monte S. Croce (Cerro al Volturno)

NOTE: This map is based on information supplied by Dr S. P. Oakley.

§ Frederiksen 1968[J46], 3-31.

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360 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

began to besiege Capua the Campanians appealed to Rome. In spite of
their alliance with the Samnites (above p. 323), the Romans responded
positively to the appeal and intervened on the Campanian side. Livy says
that they took this step because the Campanians had surrendered them-
selves completely into the power of the Roman people (Livy v11.31.3—-4)
~ a questionable excuse and perhaps also a doubtful piece of history.

A more convincing explanation of the Romans’ action can be deduced
from the speech which Livy attributes to the Campanian envoys (Livy
vir.30). Here the suggestion is made that the Romans could not afford to
ignore the opportunity that was being offered to them, nor to risk letting
the Samnites gain control of Campania. The speech is unhistorical and
full of rhetorical commonplaces — in particular its main argument is
borrowed from Thucydides (1.32—36) — but it nevertheless contains an
important historical truth. Campania is the most fertile and productive
region in peninsular Italy, and by gaining control of most of it the
Romans vastly increased their available economic and military resources
and became more than a match for the Samnites. It is not an exaggeration
to say that ‘in the contest between Rome and Samnium the control over
Campania was the key to ultimate victory’.°

Hostilities began when the Romans sent two consular armies to
Campania in the summer of 343 B.c. After a number of victorious
engagements they succeeded in driving out the Samnites and occupying
Capua. Livy gives an improbably detailed account of these events, of
which the basic outline at least can be accepted. We need not doubt that
the Roman armies did enough to earn triumphs for both consuls (Fasti
Capitolini) and the congratulations of a Carthaginian embassy (Livy
vir.38.2). The theory that the whole First Samnite War was invented by
the annalists!° has not been widely accepted.

In 342 the Romans were preoccupied by an army revolt and a political
crisis (see above, p. 345); when hostilities resumed in 341 the Samnites
apparently sued for peace at the first appearance of a Roman army. The
Romano-Samnite alliance was then renewed, with the consequence that
the Sidicini and the Campanians at once allied themselves with the Latins
and Volscians, who were already in revolt against Rome. There was,
therefore, a complete reversal of the situation of two years earlier, when
the Romans had aided the Campanians and Sidicini against the Samnites.
This volte-face is indeed strange, but not by any means incredible. A
possible explanation is that after an internal struggle in Rome a ‘pro-
Samnite’ faction came to power (see above, p. 345).

Be that as it may, the Romano-Latin War, which began in 341, was a
major turning point in Italian history. There is no reason to doubt Livy’s

9 Toynbee 1965(A131], 1-91. 10 Adcock 1928[J133], 588.

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STRUGGLES WITH THE SAMNITES AND LATINS 361

view that the war arose out of the Latins’ resentment at being treated as
subjects rather than allies. However, the specific demands that he
attributes to the rebel leaders — that the Latins should be admitted to the
Roman citizenship and should supply one of the consuls and half the
senate (Livy vui.4.11) — are clearly anachronistic. In part they reflect the
aspirations of the Italian insurgents at the time of the Social War (91 B.C.).

The actual events of the war cannot be reconstructed in any detail.
This point raises the general question of the reliability of the traditional
narrative of the wars of conquest. Livy’s account, which covers the
period down to 293 B.c., is full of rhetorical battle-pieces and similar
devices in which much of the detail is likely to be imaginary; such items as
the numbers of enemy casualties are largely the product of enthusiastic
guesswork. But the general outline of the campaigns need not be
fictitious; there is no reason to think that any of the principal events were
deliberately fabricated out of nothing by Livy or his sources. It is clear,
however, that Livy’s understanding of geographical and strategic
realities was weak — and sometimes non-existent. Livy did not carry a
map of Italy in his head, and certainly made no attempt to reconstruct
campaigns on the ground. We do not know if he had ever visited
Samnium, for instance, but it seems unlikely. Mostly Livy was content to
reproduce the place names and other topographical indications that he
found in his sources, without necessarily having any idea of their precise
location or character. The fact that the sources he was following may
themselves have done the same thing naturally increases the chances of
misunderstanding and distortion. ©

In interpreting Livy’s account, the method adopted by many modern
commentators is that of the armchair strategist. That is to say, the
historian rejects whatever seems implausible to him, and substitutes a
reconstruction based on his own assessment of what the military situ-
ation required. The results are largely arbitrary, for obvious reasons. For
instance, Livy’s statement that the consuls of 340 B.c. marched through
the country of the Marsi and Paeligni on their way to Campania (Livy
v111.6.8) is sometimes rejected as implausible ~ surely an ‘anticipation’ of
the Romans’ campaigns in Central Italy in the Second Samnite War.
Other scholars, however, see the consuls’ detour as a deliberate man-
oeuvre to surprise the Latins, who would have been expecting a direct
attack.!! In fact our knowledge of the general military situation is
nowhere near good enough to allow us to decide on a matter of this kind.
How can we know what the Latins were expecting? All that we can say is
that seemingly implausible events should not be rejected automatically.

"| For the former interpretation see e.g. De Sanctis 1907-64[A37], 11.262; for the latter A. Alféldi
1965(13], 412.

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362 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

Indeed it is arguable, on the principle of the /ectio diffcilior, that state-
ments in our sources are ‘the more credible the more odd they look’.!2

The revolt that began in ¢. 341 was crushed after four years of hard
campaigning. The Volscians of Privernum were defeated in 341; in the
following year the Latins and Campanians suffered at least two major
defeats, one of them at the celebrated battle of Veseris (perhaps at
Fenseris (Sarno); at any rate it was somewhere near Mount Vesuvius:
Livy v111.8.19). The battle was remembered in the Roman tradition for
two incidents. First, T. Manlius Torquatus, the son of one of the consuls,
slew an enemy champion in single combat, but was executed by his father
for disobeying acommand not to engage the enemy. The second incident
involved the other consul, P. Decius Mus, who ‘devoted’ himself and the
enemy to the gods of the underworld, and by riding headlong into the
opposing ranks brought about their destruction along with his own.
Whether these episodes are in any sense historical naturally cannot be
known, but neither should be ruled out @ priori. The first possibly, and
the second probably, has some basis in fact.

The campaign of 340 brought a temporary end to the fighting. Rome
punished her enemies by confiscating some of the territory of the
Campaniand Privernates (the future tribes Falerna and Oufentina) and of
the Volscians and Latins to the south of Velitrae and Lanuvium (later
incorporated in the tribes Maecia and Scaptia). Those who had remained
loyal were rewarded. They included Lavinium, which was given a
privileged status that is now obscure to us, and 1600 of the equites
Campani, the aristocracy of Capua, who received economic privileges
and honorary Roman citizenship.'3 Some of the Latin peoples took up
arms again in 339, but were defeated after two more years of warfare. In
338 the Romans captured the stronghold of Pedum, and then proceeded
to reduce the other rebel communities one by one (Livy vii1.13.8). In the
following years mopping-up operations were carried out in Campania,
and against the Sidicini, Aurunci and Volsci.

A skeletal version of these events can be found in the list of triumphs
recorded in the Fasti Capitolini, which are well preserved for the second
half of the fourth century; they represent a tradition, independent of
Livy, that seems to be generally reliable. The triumphs of the period are
listed in Table 7.

During the years 343-329 B.c. the Romans completely reorganized
their relations with their conquered subjects. The result was the forma-
tion of a Roman ‘commonwealth’ (to borrow Arnold Toynbee’s con-
venient phrase) which embraced all of the lowland district along the

12 Alfdldi 1965{13], 410 n. 2.

'3 Livy viit.11.16. This tradition, often rejected by scholars, is defended by Humbert 1978(J184],
172-6, who is followed in the text.

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B.C
367
361
361
360
360
358
338
357
356
354
350
346
343
343
340
339
338
338
335
329
329
326
324
322
322
319
314
312
311
311
309
309
306
305
304
304
302
301
299
298
295
294
294
293
293
291

STRUGGLES WITH THE SAMNITES AND LATINS 363

Table 7. Roman Triumphs 367-264 B.C.

Triumphator

M. Furius Camillus IV
T. Quinctius Capitolinus
C. Sulpicius Peticus

C. Poetelius Libo

M. Fabius Ambustus

C. Sulpicius Peticus I]

C, Plautius Proculus

C. Marcius Rutilus

C. Marcius Rutilus II
M. Fabius Ambustus II
M. Popillius Laenas

M. Valerius Corvus

. Valerius Corvus II
Cornelius Cossus
Manlius Torquatus

. Publilius Philo
Furius Camillus
Maenius

. Valerius Corvus III]
Aemilius Mamercinus
Plautius Decianus

. Publilius Philo II
Papirius Cursor
Fulvius Curvus

. Fabius Rullianus
Papirius Cursor II
Sulpicius Longus

. Valerius Maximus
lunius Bubulcus Brutus

. Aemilius Barbula
Papirius Cursor III

. Fabius Rullianus II]

. Marcius Tremulus

. Fulvius Curvus
-Sempronius Sophus
Sulpicius Saverrio
lunius Bubulcus Brutus II
M. Valerius Corvus IV
M. Fulvius Paetinus

Cn. Fulvius Maximus
Q. Fabius Rullianus III
L. Postumius Megellus
M. Atilius Regulus

Sp. Carvilius Maximus
L. Papirius Cursor

Q. Fabius Maximus Gurges

OCHAPsSZ

ZOFArFAOMrE

APM ZNATAO

Defeated enemy

Gauls

Hernici

Gauls and Tiburtes
Hernici

Gauls

Hernici

Privernates

Etruscans

Tiburtes

Gauls

Antiates, Volsci, Satricani
Samnites

Samnites

Latins, Campanians, Sidicini, Aurunci
Latins

Pedani, Tiburtes
Antiates, Lanuvini, Veliterni
Caleni

Privernates

Samnites, Palaeopolitani
Samnites

Samnites

Samnites, Apuli

Samnites

Samnites, Sorani
Samnites

Etruscans

Samnites

Etruscans

Anagnini, Hernici
Samnites

Aequi

Samnites

Aequi

Etruscans, Marsi
Samnites, Nequinates
Samnites, Etruscans
Samnites, Etruscans, Gauls
Samnites, Etruscans
Volsones (= Volsinienses?), Samnites
Samnites

Samnites

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364 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

Table 7 (cont.)

Lacuna of ¢. 21 lines, room for about nine triumphs

282 C. Fabricius Luscinus
281 Q. Marcius Philippus
280 T. Coruncanius

280 L. Aemilius Barbula

278 ~ C. Fabricius Luscinus II
277. -C. lunius Brutus Bubulcus
276 Q. Fabius Maximus Gurges II
275 M’. Curius Dentatus IV
275 L. Cornelius Lentulus
273 C. Claudius Canina

272 Sp. Carvilius Maximus II
272 +L. Papirius Cursor II
270 ~©6Cn. Cornelius Blasio

268 P. Sempronius Sophus
268 Ap. Claudius Russus

267. ‘M. Atilius Regulus

267‘ L. Iulius Libo

266 D. Iunius Pera

266 N. Fabius Pictor

266 OD. Lunius Pera II

264 M. Fulvius Flaccus

Samnites, Lucani, Bruttii

Etruscans

Volsinienses, Vulcientes

Tarentini, Samnites, Sallentini
Lucani, Bruttii, Tarentini, Samnites
Lucani, Bruttii

Samnites, Lucani, Bruttii

Samnites and King Pyrrhus
Samnites, Lucani

Lucani, Samnites, Bruttii

Samnites, Lucani, Bruttii, Tarentini
Tarentini, Lucani, Samnites, Bruttii
Regini

Picentes

Sallentini

Sarsinates

Sallentini, Messapii

Volsinienses

Source: Fasti Capitolini, ed. Degrassi 1947[D7].

Tyrrhenian coast from north of the Tiber to the bay of Naples. The
settlement which the Romans imposed after 3 38!4 was of crucial impor-
tance in that it established a pattern for the future development of Roman
expansion in Italy. It combined a number of constitutional innovations
that gave the Roman commonwealth an unprecedented — indeed unique
— structure. We do not know who devised the scheme,!5 but whoever it
was made a vital contribution to the development of the Roman empire.
In the opinion of G. De Sanctis this was the turning-point of Roman
history.16

The settlement seems to have been drawn up on the basis of two broad
principles. First, the Romans dealt with the various defeated communi-

‘4 Livy (vit1.14) dates the settlement to 338, but Velleius Paterculus (1.14.2—4) is probably correct
to imply that it was worked out over a period of several years.

'5 Inevitably the name of Q. Publilius Philo has been linked with the formation of the common-
wealth: Toynbee 1965{A131], 1.139 n. 9. T agree with Toynbee that this seems ‘a safe guess’. Livy
gives a prominent role to the consuls of 338, especially L. Furius Camillus, the grandson of the
conqueror of Veii (Livy vitt.13.10-18). Statues of the younger Camillus were set up in the Forum:
Pliny, HN xxxtv.z3; Asconius p. 14C.

16 De Sanctis 1907-64[A}37], 11.267: ‘Fu questo il momento critico della storia di Roma’.

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STRUGGLES WITH THE SAMNITES AND LATINS 365

ties individually rather than in groups. Leagues and confederations were
dissolved. The consequence was that the constituent units of the Roman
commonwealth were bound together not by mutual ties but by the fact
that each had a fixed relationship with Rome. Secondly, a set of distinct
types of relationship was established, so that Rome’s subjects were
divided into formal juridical categories defined by the specific rights and
obligations of each community in relation to the Roman state. Thus a
hierarchy of statuses was created among the member states of the Roman
commonwealth.

The details of the settlement are systematically outlined in a careful
chapter of Livy (vii1.14) which is the main source for what follows. Livy
deals with the matter under three headings:

(a) Latium: incorporated communities

Some of the defeated Latin cities were incorporated in the Roman state
and their inhabitants made Roman citizens. Livy specifies Lanuvium,
Aricia, Nomentum and Pedum. Each of these places became a self-
governing municipium on the model of Tusculum (see above, p. 319).
Tusculum itself had taken part in the revolt (its cavalry commander,
Geminus Maecius, had been killed by T. Manlius in the duel before the
battle of Veseris) but its citizenship was restored in 338 after the ring-
leaders had been executed.

Specially harsh treatment was reserved for Velitrae and Antium.
Velitrae’s walls were razed and its ruling class was banished. The land of
the dispossessed aristocrats was distributed to Roman settlers, and the
remaining Veliterni were given Roman citizenship.'’ The inhabitants of
Antium also became Roman citizens, but were forced to surrender their
fleet. Some of the ships were immediately destroyed; their prows or
beaks were displayed as trophies in the Roman Forum on the front of the
speakers’ platform, which was afterwards known as the Rostra (i.e. ‘the
Beaks’). A Roman garrison was then established at Antium in order to
guard the coast. This so-called ‘Roman-citizen colony’ (colonia civium
Romanorum) was modelled on the garrison that had been founded at
Ostia a generation earlier (see above p. 315 and n. 15). Further coastal
garrisons of the same type were later established at Tarracina (329 B.C.),
Minturnae and Sinuessa (both 296 B.c.), and other places. They were
manned by a small number of Roman citizens (usually 300) who were
exempt from service in the legions but forbidden to leave their colonies.

There has been considerable discussion of whether or not the enfran-

'7 Livy obscurely states that they were already Roman citizens (viit.14.5), which must be a
mistake; he is presumably referring to the colonial status of Velitrae.

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366 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

chised communities referred to above acquired full Roman citizenship.
The most probable answer is that they did, since they are clearly
distinguished by Livy from the states that received half citizenship (civitas
sine suffragio). There is no warrant for the widely held view that the civitas
optimo iure was reserved exclusively for Latins, and that the Volscians of
Antium and Velitrae could therefore only have received civitas sine
suffragio.'8 We have no reason to suppose that the Romans discrimi-
nated between newly enfranchised communities on the grounds of race
or language.

The practical business of registering the new citizens was carried out
by the censors of 3 32 B.c. (one of whom was the omnipresent Q. Publilius
Philo). Most of the communities in question were registered in existing
tribes, but Lanuvium and Velitrae were incorporated in two new tribes,
respectively the Maecia and the Scaptia (Livy viit.17.11). The new tribes
also included Roman citizens who had been settled on land confiscated
from the two cities. The inclusion of both old and new citizens in newly
created tribes had occurred earlier in the settlement of the ager Vesentanus
in 387 B.c., and had become the normal practice.

(b) Latium: communities not incorporated

Of the Latin cities that were not enfranchised, Tibur and Praeneste
retained their status as independent allies, but were forced to cede some
of their territory. The Latin League was broken up, but those of its
members which were not incorporated in the Roman state continued to
exist as sovereign communities and to possess the rights of conubium and
commercium with Roman citizens (see above, p. 269). But they were no
longer permitted to exercise such rights among themselves and were
forbidden to have political relations with one another. It is tempting in
this context to invoke the cliché ‘Divide and rule’; but it should be
remembered that the (apparently short-lived) ban on mutual conubium
and commercium did not isolate these communities entirely, since the
majority of the old Latin peoples, whose territory bordered on theirs,
were now Roman citizens.

From this time on Latin status no longer depended on membership of
a distinct ethnic, jural and sacral community, but rather on possession of
legally defined rights and privileges that could be exercised in dealings
with Roman citizens. A Latin state could therefore be created simply by
an enactment of the Roman people conferring Latin rights on it. Thus it

18 Most clearly Salmon 1982[J219], 46-7 and passim. This view is now apparently shared by
Sherwin-White 1973[A123], 205, 212. The old idea of Mommsen, that all incorporated communi-
ties, including the Latins, received the civitas sine suffragio, is no longer widely accepted. It seems to be
contradicted by Dio vit.35.1o. In general cf. Humbert 1978[J184], 177 n. 78.

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STRUGGLES WITH THE SAMNITES AND LATINS 367

came about that the peoples of the Latin name (nomen Latinum) were
continually augmented by the foundation of new Latin communities in a
revived programme of colonization that began in 334 B.c.

In the part of the Roman commonwealth that lay outside the boundaries
of Latium Vetus — the region later known as Latium Adiectum (Pliny,
HN 111.56-9) — the Romans imposed partial citizenship (civitas sine
suffragio) on the peoples whom they had defeated. Livy specifies the
Campanian cities of Capua, Suessula and Cumae, to which Acerrae was
added in 332 (v1#1.17.12), and the Volscian towns of Fundi and Formiae,
with the addition of Privernum in 329 (vi1I.21.10). This partial citizen-
ship was the most striking innovation of the whole postwar settlement.
The cives sine suffragio were liable to all the burdens and obligations of full
citizens — especially military service — but possessed no political rights.
They could not vote in Roman assemblies nor hold office at Rome. As
communities they retained their native institutions, and became self-
governing municipia. Since they possessed the rights of conubium and
commercium their status was in practice similar to that of the Latins,
although the two categories were juridically quite distinct, since the
Latins were technically foreigners ( peregrini), whereas the Oscan-speak-
ing Campanians and Volscians were technically citizens (cives).

The size and population of the Roman commonwealth after the Latin
War have been analysed in detail by A. Afzelius, who estimated the size of
the ager Romanus (i.e. the territory occupied by Roman citizens of all
kinds) at 5525 km.?, and of the commonwealth as a whole at 8505 km.?
This was considerably smaller than the territory of the Samnite League,
but it included the best agricultural land in peninsular Italy, and in terms
of manpower Rome commanded resources that were at least equal to,
and perhaps greater than, those of the Samnites: Afzelius estimated the
total population of the ager Romanus at 347,300 free persons, and that of
the commonwealth at 484,000.!9

The Roman commonwealth was a dynamic structure with an almost
infinite capacity for growth. The institution of the self-governing
municipium enabled the Roman state to go on extending its territory and
incorporating new communities without having to make any radical
changes to its rudimentary system of centralized administration; and by
the invention of the civitas sine suffragio the Romans could increase their
citizen manpower but still maintain the essential character of Rome as a
city-state and the integrity of its traditional political institutions.

'9 Afzelius 1942[J134], 153.

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368 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

On the other hand, colonization gave Roman citizens the chance to
acquire conquered land even in distant regions, and thus to benefit
directly from the commonwealth’s territorial expansion; while the state
was able to consolidate its conquests by planting strategic garrisons in
troublesome areas. Since the colonies were self-sufficient autonomous
communities with Latin status, their distance from Rome did not place
any strain on its traditional city-state structure. These points were clearly
outlined by Arnold Toynbee, who noted that the main constitutional
innovations of the settlement ‘gave the Roman commonwealth the
maximum capacity for expansion, combined with the maximum solidity
of structure, that could be obtained by “political engineering” with no
institutional materials except city-states manned by citizen soldiers,
governed by unpaid nobles, and maintained by subsistence farming’.

II. THE SECOND SAMNITE WAR

In 334 B.c. the Romans established a colony at Cales, which they had
captured from the Aurunci a year before. Cales (Calvi) was a crucial
strategic site on the main route from Rome to Capua; it protected the
vulnerable stretch of this route at a point where it swerved inland in order
to cross the river Volturnus, and shielded Capua from the Sidicini.2! The
2500 men and their families who colonized the site were drawn largely
from the Roman proletariat, but also included Latins and other allies.
They received allotments of land and were constituted as an autonomous
community with Latin rights. The government of the colony was placed
in the hands of a small group of well-to-do colonists (eguites) who
received large allotments of land and formed the ruling class of the new
community.22 Cales became a model for later colonies which were
established at strategic points throughout the Italian peninsula during
the course of the next two generations. As well as being military
strongholds, these colonies were romanized enclaves in which Latin was
spoken and the Roman way of life was practised; as such they contributed
more than any other single factor to the consolidation of the conquest
and the eventual unification of Italy under Rome.

Six years later a second colony was founded at Fregellae (Ceprano) on
the eastern bank of the Liris, at the junction with the Trerus (Sacco). The
colonization of Fregellae provoked the hostility of the Samnites, who
had overrun the region a few years previously and regarded the Romans’

2 Toynbee 1965[A131], 1.140.

21 On the strategic importance of Cales see Toynbee 1965[A131], 1.136—-7.

22 This is not specifically attested for the early colonies, but can safely be assumed. Strangely
enough the text that refers explicitly to the practice (Plutarch, C. Gracch. 9.1) is usually misinter-
preted, e.g. by Salmon 1969[J218], 120.

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THE SECOND SAMNITE WAR 369

action as an occupation of their territory (Livy vui.23.6). Relations
between Rome and the Samnites then deteriorated rapidly, and within
two years they were formally at war. The sources, which naturally
describe events from a Roman point of view, accuse the Samnites of
aggression on three different fronts. It is alleged, first, that they were
preparing to attack the Roman colonists at Fregellae; secondly, that they
had incited the Greek city of Neapolis (Naples) to attack Rome’s
possessions in Campania; and thirdly, that they were encouraging
Privernum, Fundi and Formiae to revolt.

The Naples affair, of which our sources give conflicting reports, was
evidently crucial. When the Romans declared war on Naples (or
‘Palaeopolis’, as Livy calls it, apparently under the impression that they
were two different places — e.g. v1it.23.3), the Samnites immediately
came to its assistance and installed a garrison (327 B.c.). It appears,
however, that the city was internally divided, with the mass of the people
(the demos) favouring the Samnites and receiving support from other
Greek cities (especially Tarentum), while a section of the propertied class
supported Rome (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. xv.6.5 etc.). In 326 the pro-
Roman group succeeded in getting rid of the Samnites and handing over
the city to the Roman commander Q. Publilius Philo. The subsequent
alliance with Naples was Rome’s first success of the Second Samnite
War, which had formally begun a few months previously, in late 327 or
early 326.

Our sources give a very imprecise account of the early years of the war.
Little can be said about the character of the campaigns except that the
Romans seem to have adopted a broadly offensive strategy. At no point
in the period down to 320 B.c. did the Samnites attack the territory of
Rome or its allies;23 on the contrary, the Romans invaded western
Samnium in 326 (Livy vitt.25.4) and attacked the Vestini, who were allies
of the Samnites, in the following year (v111.29.1;6; 11-14). Large-scale
victories over the Samnites are recorded in 325 and 322, the former
apparently somewhere ‘in Samnium’, although the exact site of the battle
(Imbrinium) is not identifiable. This campaign was the scene of a
celebrated quarrel between the dictator L. Papirius Cursor and his
magister equitum Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus, of which Livy gives a
detailed account; it probably derives from Fabius Pictor (who is quoted
at VIII.30.9).

The campaign of 322 is not located at all and is problematic from other
points of view. Livy (v111.38-9) ascribes the victory to the dictator A.
Cornelius Arvina; but in a later chapter (v11.40) he records an alternative
tradition (followed by the Fasti Capitolini) which gave the credit to the

3 Harris 1979[AG1], 177.

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370 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

consuls. In an exasperated aside he remarks that the record had been
falsified by aristocratic families who claimed the credit for great victories
by falsely attributing them to their ancestors (cf. Cicero, Brutus 62). Our
sources contain many similar cases of uncertainty about which of the
magistrates should be credited with a particular action or exploit. The
obvious inference would seem to be that the original records — the
pontifical chronicle, or whatever — did not make the matter clear. It is
important to note, however, that these instances cast doubt on the
identity of the magistrates who took part in the events, but do not
necessarily imply that the events themselves are fictitious. Indeed, if
anything they rather imply the contrary.

In 321 B.c. the Romans suffered a disaster at the Caudine Forks. Our
sources give a highly coloured but largely unreliable account of this
event. All we can be sure of is that it was one of the most humiliating and
discreditable episodes in Roman history. Apparently the consuls had led
the Roman army into a remote mountain glen where it was surrounded
and forced to surrender. The Romans were set free under an agreement,
after being forced to march, unarmed and half-naked, under a ‘yoke’ of
spears.

Livy’s account attempts to attenuate the disgrace by suggesting that
the Samnites had tricked the Romans and enticed them into a rocky defile
from which there was no escape (Livy 1x.2z). But other sources clearly
imply that the Roman army surrendered after a defeat (e.g. Cic. Off.
HI.109). Moreover Livy’s description of the Caudine Forks does not
match the topography of any of the valleys in the region between Calatia
and Caudium, where the débacle is said to have taken place (Livy 1x.
2.1-2; the Forks are traditionally identified with the valley between
Arienzo and Arpaia).

But whatever the precise circumstances, the fact of a Roman surrender
is undeniable. The doubtful part of the story is the sequel. We are told
that when the army returned to Rome the senate and people rejected the
truce which the consuls had made and voted to continue the war. In the
next two years the Romans avenged the disaster with a series of victories.
In particular they captured Luceria in northern Apulia, recovered the
lost standards and freed the Goo knights whom the Samnites had taken
hostage. The 7ooo Samnite prisoners who surrendered at Luceria were
then sent under the yoke.

This end result seems too good to be true, and is usually dismissed as
fantasy. Another doubtful element is the claim that the truce was not a
treaty (foedus), but a sponsio, a provisional agreement made by the consuls
who offered themselves as guarantors (‘sponsores’). When the Roman
people refused to ratify the truce, the consuls were handed over to the
Samnites, naked and bound. This looks like a piece of legalistic special

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THE SECOND SAMNITE WAR 371

pleading and does not carry conviction.74 The standard modern view is
that a regular foedus was made, that the Romans were forced to comply
with its terms (which included the surrender of Fregellae and Cales —
Livy 1x.4.4; App. Sam. 4.5), and that all hostilities between Rome and the
Samnites ceased until 316 B.c. On this interpretation the repudiation of
the agreement and the subsequent Roman victories are nothing more
than dishonest fabrications.

But in spite of its wide currency this critical view is not necessarily
compelling. For one thing it requires us to believe that the annalists
invented the most shameful part of the story, namely the abrogation of
the treaty. It is perhaps more reasonable to assume that the Romans really
did break a treaty, and that the annalists attempted to whitewash this fact
by introducing the notion of a sponsio. Although the details of the victory
at Luceria are obviously imaginary, it is nevertheless possible that some
fighting did take place in 320 and 319 and that the Romans achieved some
successes (the Fasti Capitolini record a triumph de Samnitibus in 319).
There is moreover some positive reason to think that the record of these
campaigns may belong to an early layer of the tradition.

In general it must be admitted that the facts surrounding these events
are not now recoverable. It seems likely enough, however, that by 318
open hostilities between Rome and the Samnites had ceased, either as a
result of the original foedus or a subsequent truce at the beginning of 318
(Livy rx.20.1--3). This left the Romans free to strengthen their position in
Campania (Livy 1x.20.5 and 10), and to create two new tribes, the
Oufentina and the Falerna, on territory that had been settled twenty years
previously (see above p. 362). At the same time they campaigned in
Apulia and Lucania, and forced a number of communities there to make
treaties of alliance (including Arpi, Teanum Apulum, Canusium,
Forentum and Nerulum — Livy 1x.20). These regions had for some time
been the object of Roman attention, and earlier alliances are recorded by
Livy in 326 B.c. (viiI.25.3). Rome’s efforts on this front form part of a
broad strategic policy aimed at isolating and encircling the Samnites. The
pattern is one of consistent aggression, a conclusion that is not necessar-
ily incompatible with the modern view that the Romans’ principal
intention was to preserve their own security.

On the other hand, there is no sign of any corresponding aggression or
urge to expand on the part of the Samnites, although both ancient and
modern writers frequently assert the contrary.2 Samnite ‘inactivity’ in
the years before 316 B.c. does not need to be either explained or explained
away; as a tribal confederation the Samnite League could organize united

% Crawford 1973[J156], 1-7. 25 See Frederiksen 1968[J47], 226.
% See e.g. the references cited by Harris 1979[AG1], 176 nn. 1~2.

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372 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

resistance against external attack, but would hardly have been able to
implement any kind of long-term offensive strategy. Rome, by contrast,
was a developed unitary state with strong aggressive tendencies.

The only occasion when the Samnites invaded the territory of the
Romans or their allies in force was in 315 B.c. This attack was a response
to Roman aggression, as Livy himself admits. Hostilities had resumed in
the previous year when the Romans attacked Saticula (Livy 1x.21.2),
which fell in 315 after a long siege. But in the same year the Samnites
seized the (unknown) stronghold of Plistica and advanced across the
Liris. At Lautulae near Tarracina they defeated the Romans in a pitched
battle; it must have been on this occasion that they entered Latium and
devastated the coastal region as far as Ardea (Strabo v.3.5, p. 232C;
V.4.11, p. 249C). But in the following year they were themselves defeated
by the Romans, possibly again at Tarracina.2?7 The Romans then
proceeded to reassert their control of Campania, where some cities had

ecome disaffected, and dealt severely with a revolt of the Aurunci. If
Livy is to be believed, the Aurunci were massacred (1x.25.9). The
Romans also recovered Sora, which had gone over to the Samnites in the
previous year.

These events mark the turning-point of the war. In 315 the Romans
captured (or recaptured) Luceria and founded a colony there a year later.
In 313 they recovered Fregellae, which had been either ceded to the
Samnites by the Caudine treaty or taken by them in a night attack in 320
(Livy 1x.12.5—8); further Latin colonies were established at Suessa
Aurunca, Saticula and on the island of Pontia (in 313) and at Interamna
on the Liris (in 312). A Roman attack on the Pentrian capital of
Bovianum is also recorded in 313, and further successes occurred at Nola
and Calatia in Campania, and at Atina in Samnium (Livy 1x.28.3—6). The
result of this activity was that by 312 Samnium was encircled by military
allies of Rome, and confronted in the sensitive Liris—Volturnus region
by a string of Latin colonies on strategic sites stretching from Fregellae
to Saticula. At the same time the Romans strengthened their grip on the
whole of the lowland region along the Tyrrhenian coast. A potent
symbol of their permanent control of this area was the construction of
the Appian Way, the great highway from Rome to Capua, which was
started in 312 B.C.

Il. THE ROMAN CONQUEST OF CENTRAL ITALY

After the consolidation of 313-312 B.c. the outcome of the Second
Samnite War was no longer in doubt. In the years that followed the

27 Diod. xtx.76.2. The MSS have epi xiwav 7éAw; the emendation wepi Tapaxivay addw was
Burger’s conjecture.

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ROMAN CONQUEST OF CENTRAL ITALY 373

Romans were able to extend the scope of their military activities to other
parts of Central Italy, and to embark on a series of vigorous offensives
which in little more than a decade transformed the political map of Italy.
By 299 the Roman state had surpassed all its rivals and controlled most of
the Italian peninsula.

The increased scale of Roman operations during this period is revealed
by a notice of Livy (1x.30.3), which states that in 311 B.c. the military
tribunes of the four legions were elected by the people rather than
appointed by their commanders. This innovation presupposes an in-
crease in the normal size of the army from two to four legions, and
probably coincides with it. Whether it was also at this time that the
Romans introduced the manipular formation that characterized the later
army is uncertain, but probable. Livy assumes the existence of a
manipular army much earlier, and includes an interesting digression on
the subject before his account of the battle of Veseris in 340 B.C.
(v111.18.3-14), while other sources trace its origin back to the time of
Camillus (Plut. Cam. 40); but it is more likely that both the manipular
formation and the use of oblong shields and javelins were borrowed by
the Romans from the Samnites at the end of the fourth century (thus Sall.
Cat. 51.37-8; Ined. Vat. (Jac. FGrH 839 F 1.3)).

Our sources do not give a very clear picture of the last years of the
Second Samnite War; instead they provide a shapeless catalogue of
annual campaigns, the details of which are often uncertain. Similar
problems attend the narrative of the Etruscan wars of 311-308 B.c. In 311
the Etruscans attacked Sutrium (we are not told why) and prompted
Roman intervention in a region that had been quiet since the 350s. It is
not clear precisely who these ‘Etruscans’ were, but they probably in-
cluded the ‘inland’ cities of Volsinii, Perusia, Cortona, Arretium, and
Clusium. The coastal cities, such as Caere, Tarquinii and Vulci, do not
seem to have taken part.

The surviving accounts of this war are confused and contradictory in
detail, but are broadly in agreement on the main points, which can be
briefly summarized (Livy 1x.32; 35-7; 39-41; Diod. xx.35 and 44.8-9).
The Romans drove back the army that had laid siege to Sutrium and
followed up their success in 310 with a bold advance into central Etruria
under the consul Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus. We hear of pitched
battles at Lake Vadimon in the Tiber valley and near Perusia. Perusia,
Cortona and Arretium were forced to make thirty-year truces with
Rome. A celebrated episode of this campaign was the reconnaissance
mission by the consul’s brother, who crossed the trackless Ciminian
forest and continued as far as Camerinum in Umbria, which he persuaded
to become an ally of Rome (Livy rx.36.1—8).28 In the next year (i.e. 308;

28 Camerinum seems rather out of the way; but it may be a mistaken reference to Clusium, which
Livy says was originally called “‘Camars’ (x.25.11). This would make better sense of the story,

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374 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

309 was a ‘dictator year’) the consul P. Decius Mus campaigned success-
fully in Umbria and made an alliance with Ocriculum. He also arranged
for the renewal of the forty-year truce between Rome and Tarquinii,
which implies that Tarquinii had not been involved in the fighting in
311-3 10.29

The historical reliability of this narrative has been the subject of
controversy among modern historians, some of whom have rejected
almost all of it as fiction. The tradition as it stands is certainly not above
criticism. The surviving narratives contain much exaggeration and
rhetoric and are confused about the location of events. For instance Livy
is uncertain whether Fabius Rullianus’ second major victory in 310
occurred at Sutrium or near Perusia (1x.37.11-12). He maintains that
Fabius made two expeditions to the interior in 310, defeated the
Etruscans at Sutrium on two separate occasions, and twice received the
submission of Perusia. These look like classic examples of ‘doublets’ —
that is, duplications that arose when an annalist, faced with two different
versions of the same event, mistakenly inferred that they were different
events and recorded them both.

But these acknowledged faults do not necessarily impugn the basic
structure of the narrative, which is regarded by many historians as
broadly historical. This ‘conservative’ position concedes that much of
the narrative detail is the product of rhetorical elaboration, and that the
annalists introduced much confusion, but nevertheless holds that the
main outline of the traditional account is probably reliable and based on
authentic records. This view of the matter explains the nature of the
sources much better than the ‘hypercritical’ alternative, and has been
adopted throughout the present chapter.*°

In any event both the quantity and the quality of available information
noticeably improves in the last years of the Second Samnite War. Livy’s
account in the later part of Book Nine and in Book Ten includes far more
substantive data than previously, and begins to resemble the narrative
format of the later decades. From 318 B.c. onwards Livy can be
supplemented by the regular annual notices of Roman events in
Diodorus (down to 302 B.c.), and by the entries in the triumphal fasts.
Discrepancies between these sources occur frequently; but we should not
necessarily infer that when two different sets of events are reported one
or both sources must be wrong. Sometimes both could be right; in other

especially as Livy implies that the town gave military aid to Fabius in the subsequent campaign
(1x. 36.8).

29 The interval from 351 to 308 works out at exactly forty years if the ‘dictator-years’ (333, 324,
309) are excluded. The renewal of the indutiae with Tarquinii in 308 B.c. thus reinforces the
presumption that the dictator-years are a fiction.

* For a clear statement of the conservative case see Harris 1971[Jt75], esp. 49-84.

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ROMAN CONQUEST OF CENTRAL ITALY 375

words, they complement, rather than contradict, one another. It is also
worth noticing that in this section of his work Livy refers frequently to
discrepancies between his sources (e.g. X.17.11—12). These instances bear
witness to his conscientiousness, and increase the value of his account.3!

Roman campaigns in Samnium are recorded every year down to 304
B.c. A major victory is attributed to L. Papirius Cursor in 310, but after
that only minor Roman successes are registered'until 307; in that year the
Samnites took the initiative and seized Sora and Caiatia (Livy 1x.43.1;
Diod. xx.80.1). Although apparently defeated in a battle (Livy 1x.43.
8—21), they returned to the attack the next year and invaded Roman
territory in northern Campania (Livy 1x.44.5; Diod. xx.90.3). The
Romans retaliated with a full-scale invasion of Samnium which led to the
capture of Bovianum; the Samnites were then destroyed in a pitched
battle in which their leader Statius Gellius was killed. The Romans
proceeded to recapture Sora and to take Arpinum and Cesennia (Livy
1X.44.16). In 304 the Samnites sued for peace; the ‘old treaty’ (presumably
that of 354 and 341) was renewed, and the twenty-years war was at an
end.

The conclusion of the Samnite War did not, however, result in an
immediate or drastic reduction in the level of Rome’s military commit-
ments. The reason is that, from around 312 B.c. onwards, the Samnite
War as such had ceased to be the Romans’ principal concern. Other
theatres of war now predominated, as the Romans concentrated their
efforts in other directions, first in Etruria and Umbria, and then in the
mountainous region of Central Italy. A crucial stage in the conquest of
Central Italy was marked, in 307, by the decision to begin construction of
the Via Valeria, the military road which extended beyond Tibur into the
central Appennines and eventually reached the Adriatic (Livy 1x.43.25).

In 306 B.c. some communities of the Hernican confederation, which
had remained faithful to Rome since 358 B.c., were accused of rebellion.
After a brief resistance they were rapidly forced to surrender to a
consular army. The dissident communities, the most important of which
was Anagnia, were incorporated with civitas sine suffragio. At the same
time they were deprived of the right of conubium (sc. with other Roman
citizens and with non-Romans who did possess conubium) and of the
rights of assembly and self-government (Livy 1x.43.26). It has been
suggested that because the people of Anagnia were deprived of conubinm
they cannot have been Roman citizens, and consequently that civitas sine
suffragio did not mean citizenship.32 This paradoxical view is mistaken; in
Roman thinking conubium was not an inseparable and automatic ingredi-

3) Cf. Harris 1971{J175], $2-3- 32 E.g. Sherwin-White 1973{A123], 49.

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376 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

ent of Roman citizenship, but a positive right which could be granted or
taken away according to circumstances independently of other citizen
rights. The classic case is the law of Augustus which forbade intermar-
riage between freed slaves and members of the senatorial order. It would
not be legitimate to infer from this that under Augustus senators were
not Roman citizens.

The Hernican states that had remained loyal to Rome (Livy names
them as Aletrium, Ferentinum and Verulae) retained their independence
and all their privileges under the existing treaty. Livy states that they
preferred this condition to Roman citizenship. This is an important
reference because it indicates that at the time civitas sine suffragio was
regarded as a punishment, and not in any sense a privilege (Livy 1x.43.23;
cf. IX.45.7—-8).

In 304 the Romans turned on the Aequi, and overwhelmed them in a
campaign that lasted a mere fifty days. Their hill towns were systemati-
cally destroyed, and the population massacred almost to a man (thus Livy
Ix.45.17: ‘nomen Aequorum prope ad internecionem deletum’). Im-
mediately the other peoples of the Abruzzi region hastened to conclude
permanent treaties of alliance with Rome: the Marsi, Paeligni, Marrucini
and Frentani in 304 (Livy 1x.45.18; Diod. xx.1o1.5), the Vestini in 302
(Livy x.3.1). The peoples of the central Appennines had been associated
in a loose federation which moderns call the ‘Sabellian League’. This
league seems generally to have favoured the Romans in the Second
Samnite War, at least to judge from the ease with which Roman armies
were able to cross the peninsula in order to operate in Apulia. As faras we
know relations with Rome became strained only at the end of the war,
and actual clashes were infrequent (Diod. xrx.105.5 — 312 B.c.; Livy
1x.41.4; Diod. xx.44.8 — 308; Diod. xx.90.3 — 305). There is no justifica-
tion for the view that the Abruzzi peoples were continuously at war with
the Romans from 308 onwards, still less than they consistently supported
the Samnites throughout the Second Samnite War.3 Apart from some
minor insurrections in 302 and 300 (Livy x.1.7—-9; 3.2~-5; 9.7) the Ro-
mans’ control of the region of the central Appennines remained
unshaken until the time of the Social War.

These conquests were consolidated by the foundation of colonies at
Sora (303 B.c.), Alba Fucens (303) and Carseoli (298). In 299 the Umbrian
stronghold of Nequinum was captured, and the colony of Narnia
founded on its site (mod. Narni). In 303 the towns of Trebula Suffenas
(Cicilliano) and Arpinum (Arpino) were annexed with civitas sine suffragto
(Livy 1x.1.3); Frusino (Frosinone) suffered the same fate, but not before
many of its leading citizens had been executed and one-third of its land

33 For the view criticized in the text see Letta 1972[J}81], 67-79.

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THE THIRD SAMNITE WAR 377

confiscated (Livy ib.; Diod. xx.80.4 dates the subjection of Frusino to
306). In 299 the tribes Aniensis and Teretina were created; the former
was situated on land taken from the Aequi in the upper Anio valley, and
the latter in the Liris valley on land that had been annexed from the
Aurunci in 314 B.c. (see above p. 372).

These acts of enfranchisement and annexation mark the end of a
further stage in Rome’s conquest of Italy. The process of expansion had
by now developed its own momentum; the logical result was Roman
domination of the entire Italian peninsula. This outcome could only have
been averted by positive and concerted action by the peoples who still
retained their independence. It was perhaps around the turn of the
century that the free peoples of Italy first perceived what might be in
store for them; at any rate it was then for the first time that they began to
make serious efforts to organize a united front against Rome.

IV. THE THIRD SAMNITE WAR AND THE COMPLETION OF THE
CONQUEST OF PENINSULAR ITALY

By 298 the Romans were once again fighting on several fronts. Annual
Roman campaigns in Etruria and Umbria are recorded from 302 B.c.
onwards, but until the great clash of 295 these seem to have been minor
and desultory affairs, with the exception of the siege and capture of
Nequinum in 300-299. A Gallic invasion of Etruria in 299, though
ominous, did not involve the Romans in any large-scale military action, if
we are to believe Polybius (11.19.1—2); on the other hand, by making an
alliance with the Lucanians, who had been attacked by the Samnites, they
provoked the so-called Third Samnite War (298-290).

The first campaign of this war is referred to in the epitaph of L.
Cornelius Scipio Barbatus (cos. 298), an inscription which probably dates
from the early second century B.c. and is therefore by some way the
oldest surviving document concerning the history of the Samnite wars
(ILLRP 309). Its account of Scipio’s achievements in Samnium is at
variance with Livy, who makes him campaign in Etruria. This well-
known puzzle is further evidence of the confusion in the tradition about
the distribution of consular commands in the Samnite wars, and of the
fact that many different versions proliferated in the late Republic.

As consuls for 297 the Romans chose two of their most experienced
military leaders, Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus and P. Decius Mus. Both
men had their commands extended in 296 and were again elected consuls
for 295. In 295 at least five men held imperium as ‘pro-magistrates’. They
included one of the consuls of the previous year, L. Volumnius Flamma,
who was retained pro consule (his colleague in the consulship of 296, Ap.
Claudius Caecus, was praetor in 295). The other four, who held com-

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378 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

mands pro praetore, were the two consuls of 298, L. Cornelius Scipio
Barbatus and Cn. Fulvius Maximus Centumalus, and two other ex-
consuls, M. Livius Denter (cos. 302) and L. Postumius Megellus (cos.
305).

The pattern is extraordinary and unprecedented. If we ignore some
doubtful fifth-century cases, there had only been two previous instances
of prorogation — those of Q. Publilius Philo in 326 (above, p. 347) and of
Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus in 307 (Livy 1x.42.2). Now in 296-295
several simultaneous prorogations are recorded. Even more remarkable
is the fact that four of the pro-magistrates of 295 did not have regular
commands prorogued, but had imperium conferred upon them at a time
when their legal status was that of private citizens (privat/). Appoint-
ments of this kind were always regarded as anomalous; in Roman
constitutional language they were extra ordinem, and were juridically
quite distinct from the more regular ‘prorogations’.

How are we to account for the multiple prorogations and extraordi-
nary commands in 296/5 B.c.? There can be no doubt that at this time the
pattern of distribution of offices and commands among the Roman elite
was in a state of transition. Two aspects of the change deserve attention.
First, as we have seen, the practice of iteration of senior magistracies
became much less frequent after the 290s (above, p. 345f). Secondly, this
period witnessed the demise of the dictatorship asa regular military office.
Dictators had frequently been appointed to undertake military tasks in
the period down to 310 B.c.; but after that year military dictatorships are
attested only in 302 (301) B.C., in 249 at a critical moment of the First
Punic War, and finally in the emergency that followed the battle of
Trasimene (217).

Our sources give no explanation of these changes. But it would be
reasonable to see the unprecedented number of pro-magistracies in 296/5
B.C. aS a response in a period of constitutional experiment to a grave
military threat. Our sources give no hint of an impending military crisis
until the end of 296. In 297 the consuls Fabius and Decius had both
commanded in Samnium, and ravaged it continuously for four months
(Livy x.15.3—G). These operations continued in the following year, when
the towns of Murgantia, Romulea and Ferentinum fell to the proconsuls.
At the same time the consul L. Volumnius Flamma put down a revolt in
Lucania and defeated the Samnites at the river Volturnus. But in spite of
these successes the Romans were not able (or did not choose) to prevent
the Samnite general Gellius Egnatius from leading an army northwards
into Etruria and joining forces with the leaders of the Etruscan states.

The Roman commander in Etruria, the consul Ap. Claudius, defeated
a joint force of Etruscans and Samnites in a pitched battle (in which he
vowed a temple to Bellona), but the result was far from decisive. At the

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THE THIRD SAMNITE WAR 379

end of the year Appius reported to the senate that a grand coalition had
been formed in northern Italy, involving Samnites, Etruscans, Umbrians
and Gauls (Livy x.21.11-15). This alliance of convenience must have
been several years in the making, as Livy himself implies (x.16.3). The
extraordinary pattern of military appointments in 296 and 295 shows that
the Romans had been conscious of a growing threat since the end of 297
at the latest.

Matters came to a head in 295 when a combined army of Samnites and
Gauls met the Romans at Sentinum in Umbria. At this celebrated battle
the Romans fielded four legions together with contingents of allied
soldiers who, according to Livy, outnumbered the citizen troops. If we
estimate the size of a legion at around 4500 men, the total number of
troops on the Roman side will have been over 36,000, a huge army by the
standards of the time, and probably the largest that the Roman state had
ever put into the field. The size of the opposing force is completely
unknown. The sources naturally maintain that the Romans were heavily
outnumbered, and fantastic figures such as 650,000 were given in some
accounts known to Livy (x.30.5). The Greek historian Duris of Samos,
who was a contemporary of the event, apparently reported that 100,000
men were killed (Jac. FGrH 76 F 56). Livy’s more modest account gives a
figure of 8700 killed on the Roman side, and 25,000 of the enemy
(x.29.17—-18). Such figures are more realistic, and may be based on more
than guesswork.

However that may be, there can be little doubt that, in terms of the size
of the forces engaged, the ferocity of the fighting and the decisiveness of
the result, Sentinum was the greatest military engagement that had ever
taken place in Italy. Livy’s detailed account of the battle may well contain
authentic elements, probably for the first time. The reference to it in the
work of a contemporary Greek historian has already been noted; more-
over Romans of the generation of Fabius Pictor would have been able to
speak to survivors of the battle, and it would be extraordinary if Pictor
himself had not in fact done so.

The Roman victory was total, but apparently far from easy. In Livy’s
opinion, the result might have been different if the Etruscan and Um-
brian contingents had been present (Livy x.27.11); as it was they were
drawn away from Sentinum when the Roman reserve armies moved up
from Rome and attacked Clusium. The battle itself was closely fought,
but at the critical moment the consul P. Decius Mus followed the
example of his father and devoted himself (cf. above p. 362). This
undoubtedly historical incident turned the tide of the battle in favour of
the Romans. After the victory Fabius returned to Rome in triumph, with
an assured place in the Roman tradition as the hero of the Samnite wars.

Sentinum sealed the fate of Italy. After the battle the Romans lost no

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380 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

time in settling accounts with the Etruscans and Umbrians; in 294 they
captured Rusellae and imposed terms on Volsinii, Perusia and Arretium.
At the same time Roman armies continued to operate in Samnium, where
fierce fighting is reported in 295 and 294 (details in Livy x.31-6; once
again his sources disagreed about the identity of the commanders serving
in the various theatres — x.37.13—16). In the following year the Samnites
made a final effort by calling up every available man in a mass levy under
a lex sacrata (p. 292); of the 36,000 who were assembled, 16,000 were
chosen to form a specially equipped elite force, the so-called ‘linen
legion’ (Livy x.38). But this great army came to grief at the battle of
Aquilonia in 293.

The Roman victory at Aquilonia was the most notable event in a year
in which innumerable Roman successes are recorded, including the
capture of Duronia, Cominium, Aquilonia, Saepinum, Velia,
Palumbinum and Herculaneum. With the exception of Saepinum
(Sepino) the identification of these towns is uncertain, and the geography
of the campaign of 293 is a long-standing puzzle; but according to the
most probable modern reconstruction the events should be located in the
area to the north of the Monti del Matese stretching between the upper
reaches of the rivers Trigno and Biferno (see Map 8).*4

Livy’s tenth book ends with the events of 293. The succeeding books
do not survive, and we are compelled to rely on later epitomes and
secondary accounts that preserve only the barest outline of Livy’s
narrative. The complete text of Diodorus ceases with the events of 302,
and to complete the dismal picture of our sources for this period the
section of the Fasti Capitolini containing triumphs from 290 to 283 Is
missing. A proper narrative of the final stages of the Roman conquest of
peninsular Italy is not really possible from the few scraps of evidence we
have. The following facts seem, however, to be reasonably certain. In the
years from 292 to 290 Samnium was overrun by the Romans, who
annexed a large area of territory on the south-eastern borders of
Samnium where the colony of Venusia was founded in 291. A year later
the Samnites surrendered and were forced to become allies of Rome, no
doubt on unequal terms.

The Roman advance continued. In 290 the consul M’. Curius Dentatus
conquered the Sabines and Praetuttii, who were incorporated into the
Roman state as citizens sine suffragio, some of their land was seized and
distributed to Roman settlers. As a result of this poorly documented
episode Roman territory was extended right across the peninsula to the
Adriatic coast, where a colony was founded at Hadria (Atri) probably
between 290 and 286 (Livy, Per. x1). Some years later the territory of

* La Regina 1975(B352], 271-82.

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THE THIRD SAMNITE WAR 381

Picenum was added, following a revolt in 269 B.c.35 The Picentes were
made cives sine suffragio (with the exception of Asculum), anda colony was
established at Firmum in 264.

After their defeat at the battle of Sentinum the Gauls seem to have
remained quiet for a time; but after an interval of ten years they once
again penetrated into Etruria. The events of the Gallic war of 284/3 B.c.
are difficult to reconstruct in detail; the most probable sequence is that
in 284 a Roman army under L. Caecilius Metellus was destroyed in a
battle at Arretium, but that the Romans retaliated in the following year
and won a decisive victory at Lake Vadimon. Shortly afterwards they
annexed the territory along the northern Adriatic that was occupied by
the Senones (the ager Gallicus). It is probable that the Gauls continued to
inhabit the region on sufferance, until they were expelled in consequence
of an agrarian law in 232 B.c. (p. 432f). The Romans’ control of this
district was secured by the foundation of a Latin colony at Ariminum
(Rimini) in 268 B.c.

Warfare in Etruria and Umbria continued, although very few details
are preserved. Vulci and Volsinii were defeated in 280, and Caere in 273.
The process of conquest was certainly complete by 264, when Volsinii
was destroyed in the aftermath of a revolution in the city. The Etruscan
and Umbrian communities remained nominally independent but were
bound to Rome by treaties of alliance. The exception was Caere, which
was incorporated with citizenship sine suffragio following its defeat in 273;
in the same year a colony was founded on the Tuscan coast at Cosa.

In the south the Romans faced renewed problems with the interven-
tion, in 280 B.c., of King Pyrrhus of Epirus, whose adventures are dealt
with in Chapter ro. Asa result of Pyrrhus’ defeat (275 B.c.) the Romans
overran Magna Graecia, and captured the leading Greek city, Tarentum,
in 272. But the arrival of Pyrrhus coincided with a revolt of the Samnites,
Lucanians and Bruttians which lasted for over a decade. Although our
meagre sources provide very few details about this war, it was evidently a
serious affair, as is proved by the fact that no fewer than ten triumphs
over these peoples (in varying combinations) are listed in the fast
between 282 and 272 B.c. The final defeat of Samnium and Lucania was
marked by the foundation of colonies at Paestum (273 B.c.), Beneventum
(268) and Aesernia (263). By 264 B.c. the Roman conquest of peninsular
Italy was complete.??

It is as well to remind ourselves that this definitive result had been
achieved in a remarkably short space of time; only seventy-five years
previously Rome’s power had not extended beyond the relatively minute

35 For discussion of the episode cf. below, p. 425.

* Texts, bibliography and discussion in Torelli 1978{B177], 80-4.
37 For events of the period 275-264 B.c. see Chapter 9.

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8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

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THE THIRD SAMNITE WAR 383

region of Latium Vetus (cf. Fig. 47). On the other hand, the Romans
established their control so thoroughly that, if we exclude the special
circumstances of the Hannibalic War, they faced no serious revolts in
Italy for nearly 200 years. The only exceptions to this consistent pattern
were the isolated and short-lived rebellions of Falerii (241 B.c.) — if
rebellion this was, and not an act of Roman aggression (see below
p- 431) — and Fregellae (125 B.c.), which attracted no support from the
other allies and were both easily crushed. The speed and thoroughness of
the Roman conquest are astounding, and demand some kind of
explanation.

The first point that calls for comment is the Romans’ extraordinary
belligerence. The conquest of Italy was the result of warfare that was
both intensive and continuous. The record speaks for itself. In the
historical period of the Republic the Roman state engaged in warfare as a
matter of course. This pattern of constant military activity was firmly
established by the time of the Samnite wars, when campaigns took place
literally every year, with the doubtful exceptions of the period after the
Caudine Forks (when some scholars have argued against Livy that the
Romans were at peace — see above, p. 370f), and the years 289-285 B.C.,
when our sources simply fail us.38 The peace that was marked, in 241 B.C.,
by the closing of the temple of Janus was genuinely exceptional (Varro,
Ling. v.165; Livy 1.19.3 etc.).

The Roman state’s bellicosity is indicated not only by the frequency
with which it went to war, but also by the high proportion of its citizen
manpower that was regularly committed to military service. The size of
the citizen population before the mid-third century can only be guessed
at, but estimates such as those of A. Afzelius must be of the correct order
of magnitude. Afzelius’ figures imply a total of ¢. 100,000 adult male
citizens in 338 B.C., rising to ¢. 115,000 in 304, and to ¢. 160,000 after
290.°9 The regular annual levy in the fourth century was two legions (¢.
gooo men), and was raised to four legions (¢. 18,000 men) during the
Second Samnite War (see above p. 373). It follows that, throughout the
period of the Italian wars of conquest, between 9 and 16 per cent of all
adult male citizens were regularly serving in the army. In times of crisis
the proportion was even higher, for example in 295 B.c. when six legions
were under arms, representing around 235 per cent of the probable adult
male population. These figures, which are consistent with those of later
and better documented periods, represent a very high level of military
involvement of Roman citizens, which as far as we know cannot be
matched by the record of any other pre-industrial state.‘

38 Harris 1979{A61], 256-7.

9° Afzelius 1942[J134], 153, 171, 181. | have calculated the numbers of male isniores as ¢. 29 per
cent of Afzelius’s totals for the free population of the ager Romanus.

De Sanctis 1907~64[A37], 11.191; Hopkins 1978[A67], 31-5; Harris 1979[AG1], 44-5.

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384 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

The social and economic implications of this degree of commitment to
warfare have already been touched upon (above, p. 333f); but it also
reveals much about Roman culture and Roman values. In the middle
Republic Rome was a warrior society pervaded at all levels by what has
justly been called a ‘militaristic ethos’. This characteristic feature was
most clearly expressed in ceremonies like the triumph (p. 60o0f), and in
the cult of warlike deities such as Bellona and Victoria. These divinities
feature prominently in the record of temple foundations in the age of the
Samnite wars (see below, Table 10: p. 408), and among the types on the
earliest Roman coins, which also date from this period.

Not surprisingly, in its relations with other states Rome was consist-
ently aggressive. No value judgment is intended in this use of the term
‘aggressive’; it is simply meant as a descriptive comment on Roman
military activity, which was intensive and continuous, and as a matter of
fact resulted in territorial expansion, increased wealth and the political
domination of other peoples. That the Romans were imperialists is a
truism. We may also observe that the campaigns in which they were
engaged took place for the most part in enemy territory rather than in
their own or in that of their allies.*!

Whether the Roman state’s actions were either legally or morally
justified is another matter, and one that need not concern the historian.
Equally, questions of motive and intention are only of marginal rel-
evance. We cannot know for certain whether the Romans were con-
sciously or cynically aggressive, but it seems unlikely. In fact the
tradition maintains that the Romans only fought ‘just wars’ in defence of
their own or their allies’ legitimate interests. When war was declared,
special rituals were performed by the fetials to confirm the justice of the
Roman cause and to ensure the support of the gods. The idea of the ‘just
war’ has sometimes been dismissed as a cynical pretence or as the naive
fabrication of patriotic annalists;42 but it is far more likely that the
Romans were able to persuade themselves that their case really was just
(whatever its ‘objective’ merits) and that the gods were on their side.

Evidently the Romans were prepared to use war as an instrument of
policy in support of what they considered to be their rightful claims. This
willingness to engage in warfare was perfectly rational, as W. V. Harris
has shown.*3 Successful warfare brought tangible gains in the form of
movable booty, slaves and land, as well as the intangible benefits of
increased security, power and glory. The Romans, who were not imbe-
ciles, were obviously aware of these advantages of successful warfare,
and no doubt saw them as desirable.

4 Harris 1979[A61], 176-82. 2 E.g. Harris 1979[A61], 165-75; Badian 1966(B6], 19.
43 Harris 1979[AG1}.

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THE THIRD SAMNITE WAR 385

The essential requirement, however, was victory. In any rational
calculation, the potential advantages of military success would have to be
weighed against the possible consequences of defeat. The remarkable
fact is that the Romans do not seem to have been deterred by the risks;
they evidently expected to win, and generally did so. What needs to be
explained, therefore, is not only why the Romans fought so many wars,
but why they were so successful. In the final analysis the answer to both
questions is the same: they had at their disposal a very efficient military
machine, and could call upon resources that their opponents could not
hope to match.

The foundations of Rome’s military power were firmly laid in the
settlement that followed the Great Latin War in 338 B.c. As we have seen,
the resulting Roman commonwealth comprised a single territorial unit
whose inhabitants were divided into full citizens, citizens sine saffragio,
Latin colonists and Latin allies. These various groups had one thing in
common: the obligation to provide troops for the Roman army in time of
war. In consequence the Roman commonwealth in 338 B.c. was able to
dispose of unrivalled resources of manpower, and was already the most
powerful military state in peninsular Italy. Its successes led to expansion
and a further increase in its manpower resources. At the same time, the
practice of continuous warfare inevitably led to improved organization
and tactical skills, and greater military effectiveness.

A point that deserves attention is that the Roman state reinvested the
profits of successful warfare in further military enterprises. The cost of
mobilizing large armies every year was met by the imposition of a
property tax called ¢ributum, which was probably instituted at the end of
the fifth century (see above, p. 301). Part of this tax was no doubt paid in
kind, in the form of supplies for the army, and the remainder in uncoined
bronze, a fact that is reflected in the Latin term for soldiers’ pay,
stipendium, which implies the weighing out of uncoined metal. The
tributum was an irregular levy, imposed whenever the need arose.“ But
the income derived from booty and indemnities was also used to cover
the cost of warfare. A major political issue, which is continually referred
to by our sources on the history of the Republic, concerned the destina-
tion of booty acquired by the victorious armies. The commander, with
whom the power of decision lay, could either distribute the booty at once
among his troops (and thus supplement their existing pay) or hand it
over to the state, in which case it could be used to pay a refund to the
tribute-payers, or to pay for the stipendium of Roman soldiers in forth-
coming campaigns and thus make the payment of future instalments of
tributum unnecessary.

“ Nicolet 1976(G682]; cf. id. 1980[G685], 149ff.

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386 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

Another way in which the Romans made their wars pay for themselves
was to impose indemnities on defeated enemies, who were thereby
compelled to provide supplies, equipment and pay for the Roman army
for a stated period of time. For example in 306 B.c. the Hernici were
granted a truce by the consul Q. Marcius Tremulus, who ordered them to
supply two months’ pay and provisions, and a tunic for every soldier
(Livy 1x.43.6; for other instances see Livy viit.2.4; 36.11—-12; IX.41.5—7;
X.§.12-13; 37-5). According to the Elder Pliny an equestrian statue of
Marcius was set up in front of the temple of Castor in recognition of his
services, which included two victories over the Samnites, the capture of
Anagnia and freeing the people from war-tax (stipendinm: Pliny, HN
XXxIVv.23; the statue is also referred to by Livy 1x.43.22 and Cic. Pdil.
VI.13).

But the most important feature of the Roman military machine was the
system of alliances in Italy. By the mid-third century Rome had con-
cluded permanent treaties with over 150 nominally independent Italian
communities, which had either been defeated in war or had voluntarily
agreed to become allies.45 The treaties (foedera) probably differed from
each other in detail, but the basic provision common to all of them was
the allies’ obligation to supply military aid to the Romans in time of war.
In return they received Rome’s protection and a share in the profits of
successful military enterprises.

From 338 B.c. onwards, every Roman army that took the field
comprised both citizen troops (in the legions) and contingents of allies.
This fact is easily overlooked, since the contribution of the allies tends to
be ignored by the Rome-centred sources. But the presence of the allies
was a crucial factor in Rome’s military success. Already at the battle of
Sentinum the Latins and other allies outnumbered the Roman
legionaries (according to Livy x.26.14 —a notice that would hardly have
been invented). It can be estimated, on the basis of figures supplied by
Polybius (11.24), that in 225 B.c. the allied population of Italy included
some 360,000 men of military age whom the Romans could have
mobilized if necessary; of the troops actually under arms in 225, the allies
outnumbered the Romans by three to two. In subsequent years the ratio
fluctuated between 1:1 and 2:1 down to the time of the Social War.

These facts have an important bearing on the problem of Roman
imperialism. The availability of Italian manpower gave the Roman state
immense military potential and an almost infinite capacity for absorbing
losses, as the events of the Pyrrhic and Hannibalic wars were to de-

45 For a list of allies see Afzelius 1942[J134], 134-5.

+ Brunt 1971[Az1], 44-60 for a discussion of the population in 225 8.C.; N.B. p. 45, table iv for
the figure cited in the text; pp. 677-86 for the ratio of allies to Romans in the army down to the Social
War.

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THE THIRD SAMNITE WAR 387

monstrate. But equally important was the fact that the system of alliances
had an exclusively military function, and was only of use to the Romans
in time of war. It was therefore logically necessary for the Romans to
engage in warfare if they were to avail themselves of the services of the
allies and to keep them under control. This functional interpretation of
the Roman alliance was first outlined by A. Momigliano, whose descrip-
tion of its operation is worth repeating:

The machine worked for about two centuries, from about 280 to 100 B.c.; and
the way it worked was that Rome passed from war to war without giving
thought to the very metaphysical question of whether the wars were meant to
gain power for Rome or to keep the allies busy. Wars were the very essence of the
Roman organisation. The battle of Sentinum was the natural prelude to the
battle of Pydna — or even the destruction of Corinth and the Social War.”

The system was exploitative in the sense that the allies carried a
substantial part of the burden of the wars of conquest, and a correspond-
ing share of the risks; and in particular they incurred a proportion of the
cost, since they were obliged to pay for their contingents out of their own
resources. In this way the Romans taxed the allies without imposing a
direct tribute, and created the possibility of fighting wars at a relatively
low cost to themselves. For their part the allies were evidently prepared
to accept this state of things, and in fact remained consistently loyal to
Rome. This attitude of compliance may at first sight seem surprising, but
can probably be accounted for in two ways.

In the first place the Romans received the support of the propertied
classes in the allied states, who turned naturally to Rome whenever their
local interests were threatened. During the Italian wars of conquest the
Romans frequently profited from the actions of pro-Roman elements
within the Italian communities; the events at Naples in 326 B.c. (above
p- 369) provide a good example. On a number of recorded occasions the
Romans actually intervened with military force to put down popular
insurrections on behalf of the local aristocracies of allied communities,
for example at Arretium in 302 B.c. (Livy x.3 and 5), in Lucania in 296
(Livy x.18.8) and at Volsinii in 264 (Zonar. vi1.7.4-8). In return they
received the active co-operation of the ruling classes of the allied states,
an arrangement that ensured their continuing loyalty even in times of
crisis. It was especially effective in regions where deep social divisions
existed, as in northern Etruria, where archaic forms of dependence and
clientage appear to have survived well into the Roman period.*8

The second reason for the co-operation of the Italian allies is that as
military partners of Rome they obtained a share of the profits of
successful warfare. There is good evidence that when movable booty was

47 Momigliano 1975{A88], 45-6. 48 Harris 1971[J175], 114-44.

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388 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

distributed to a victorious army the allied soldiers received an equal share
along with the Roman legionaries. The only known exception to this, the
occasion in 177 B.c. when the allies received only half of what was given
to the Romans (Livy x11.13.8), was probably an isolated act of meanness.

The quantities of booty taken and the numbers of captives enslaved
during the Samnite wars were very considerable, to judge from the
figures given by Livy, which may well be based on an authentic record
(the data are listed in Table 8). The most important gain that was made
from the conquests was land, which was confiscated from conquered
enemies and used for colonization (Fig. 48) and distribution to individ-
uals. Although the sources do not give us much help on this issue, it is
virtually certain that the colonists included non-Roman Italians (Latins
and allies) as well as Roman citizens.

This conclusion is based not only on what we know of colonization at
later periods (e.g. Livy xxxIv.42.5—6; xLII.4.3—4; etc.), but also on the
simple demographic argument that the Roman population on its own
could not have sustained such a high rate of emigration as the record
implies.49 According to the sources Latin colonies comprised between
2500 and G6ooo adult males. This means that in the period from 3 34 to 263
B.C., when nineteen such colonies were established (see Table 9), as many
as 70,000 adult males and their dependants were resettled. It is unlikely
that the Roman population on its own (on which see above p. 383) could
have withstood such a drain on its citizen manpower. The only reason-
able explanation of the facts is that a substantial proportion of these
settlers were drawn from the allied communities.

The participation of the allies in the settlement of conquered territor-
ies should be set against the fact that as a general rule the Romans
confiscated large areas of land from defeated peoples. The Roman system
has been compared toa criminal operation which compensates its victims
by enrolling them in the gang and inviting them to share the proceeds of
future robberies.5° This sinister but apt analogy brings us back to the
point about the Roman state’s need to make war. Any self-respecting
criminal gang would soon break up if its boss decided to abandon crime
and ‘go legitimate’.

By joining a large and efficient operation and sacrificing their political
independence, Rome’s Italian allies obtained security, protection and
profit at a relatively modest premium. Although the allied soldiers
serving in the Roman army might often (if not always) outnumber their
Roman counterparts, the burden placed on the manpower of Roman

49 Hopkins 1978[A67], 21 and n. 27 questions the authenticity of the records; but his figures are in
need of modification (see Badian 1982{Ag], 165), and he takes insufficient account of the participa-
tion of the allies.

50 This notion has been lifted from Bickerman and Smith 1976[A17}, 149.

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THE THIRD SAMNITE WAR

389

Table 8. The mass enslavement of prisoners in the Third Samnite War

Date (pc) City or people Number of captives enslaved Livy ref.
297 Cimetra 2,900 X.15.6
296 Murgantia 2,100 17.4
296 Romulea 6,000 17.8
296 Samnites €. 1,500 18.8
296 Etruscans 2,120 19.22
296 Samnites 2,500 20.15
295 Samnites and Gauls 8,000 29.17
295 Samnites 2,700 31.7
294 Milionia 4,700 34.3
294 Rusellae more than 2,000 37-3
293 Amiternum 4,270 39.3
293 Duronia fewer than 4,270 39-4
293 Aquilonia 3,870 42.5
293 Cominium 11,400 43.8
293 Velia, Palumbinum, 6. 5,000 45.11
Herculaneum
293 Saepinum fewer than 3,000 45.14

66,330

Source: Harris 1979{AG1], 59 n. 4.

citizens was proportionally much heavier. In 225 B.c. the Roman citizen
troops accounted for about 4o per cent of the combined Roman and
Italian army, but at that time Roman citizens represented only about 27
per cent of the total population of peninsular Italy.5! By drawing up this
kind of balance sheet it becomes possible to understand the position of
the allies in relation to Rome, and to explain both the efficiency and the
cohesiveness of the system.

What we cannot do, in the present state of our knowledge, is to
proceed from these schematic generalizations to an appreciation of how
the wars of conquest affected the lives of the people who had the
misfortune to live through them — what Toynbee calls ‘the human
balance sheet’ of Rome expansion (Toynbee 1965(A131], 1.161). All we
can say is that the unification of Italy under Roman leadership was
achieved at an immense cost in terms of human suffering. Southern
Central Italy was especially badly affected by the endless succession of
Romano-Samnite wars. It is impossible to quantify the extent of devasta-
tion and loss of life that are referred to in a general way by our sources;
and the consequential effects of war, such as mass starvation and disease,
and the social and economic dislocation of the peasantry, can only be

5 Afzelius 1942[J134], 133-5.

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390 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

Latin colonies (with dates, B.C.): Fregellae 328

Roman citizen colonies (‘coastal garrisons’): Tarracina 329

Sena Gallica®
283

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 391

imagined. Our evidence is confined to impressions and anecdotes, such
as the following story about Pyrrhus, preserved by Cassius Dio: ‘Pyrrhus
became afraid of being cut off on all sides by the Romans while he was in
unfamiliar territory. When his allies showed displeasure at this, he told
them that he could see clearly from the country itself what a difference
there was between them and the Romans. The subject territory of the
latter had all kinds of trees, vineyards, tilled fields, and extensive farm
fixtures; whereas the districts of his own friends had been ravaged to
such an extent that it was impossible to tell whether they had ever been
inhabited’ (Dio 1x, fr.40.27, vol. 1, p. 126f Boiss.).

V. ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS
(a) Politics and government

During the period of the Italian wars between 338 and 264 B.c. the
Roman commonwealth was internally transformed. It was at this time
that the characteristic political, social and economic structures of the
classical Republic began to take shape. As far as political institutions are
concerned, the most striking development was the emergence of the
senate as the dominant element in the state, and of the nobility as the
controlling force within the senate. How this situation came about is
difficult to assess, largely because of the extreme poverty of the sources
forthe third century. Matters are particularly bad for the period from 293
to 218 B.c., when virtually no information survives concerning Rome’s
domestic history. But when the record resumes in 218 B.c. with the full-
scale narratives of Livy and Polybius, we find ourselves dealing with a

Fig. 48. Roman colonization in Italy, to 263 B.c.
Latin colonies
Before 500 Cora

495 Signia 298 Carseoli

492 Norba 291 Venusia

442 Ardea 290-286 Hadria
393 Circeii 273 Cosa

383 Setia 273 Paestum

383 Sutrium 268 Artiminum
383 Nepet 268 Beneventum
334 Cales 264 Firmum

328 Fregellae 263 Aesernia
314 Luceria Citizen colonies
313 Saticula Before 350 Ostia
313 Suessa Aurunca 338 Antium

313 Pontiae 329 Tarracina
312 Interamna 295 Minturnae
303 Sora 295 Sinuessa

303 Alba Fucens 283 Sena Gallica
299 Narnia 264 Castrum Novum

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392 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

stable and efficient regime that had evidently been firmly established for
several decades.

It was this established system that Polybius attempted to analyse in his
account of the Roman constitution at the time of the battle of Cannae
(v1.11~19). In spite of Polybius’ celebrated theory that the government
of the Roman state consisted of a balanced mixture of monarchic,
aristocratic and democratic elements, to a modern observer the distinc-
tive feature of the classical republican constitution is its strongly oligar-
chic character. Political power was concentrated in the hands of a
wealthy landowning class which monopolized the magistracies and filled
the senate. The nobility was a narrow political elite within the upper
class, and consisted of patricians and leading plebeians who had held
curule office. Former office-holders were a dominant group in the
senate, and controlled the policy of the state. They passed their nobility
on to their descendants, who thereby obtained a better chance of holding
curule office in their turn.

There was considerable mobility within the upper class, however, and
the nobles were far from being an exclusively hereditary group. At all
times during the Republic there were many ‘new men’ (men without
senatorial ancestors) in the senate, whose descendants could aspire to
curule office and perhaps even the consulship. For anew man to reach the
consulship himself was, naturally, a rare event; but that does not mean
that the chief offices were monopolized by the descendants of former
holders. Indeed it can be shown that under the Republic a considerable
proportion of consuls, perhaps as many as 20 per cent, had no consular
antecedents; on the other hand, many who were descended from consuls
failed to achieve the office themselves.*? The political elite was therefore
a relatively open and competitive group, and was continually being
invaded by newcomers.

The important point, however, is that the nobles exercised power
because of their influence in the senate, rather than through office-
holding per se. That is to say, tenure of the consulship, while it gave a man
supreme executive authority for a year, was politically important in the
long term because it admitted him to the elite group of consulares (ex-
consuls), who were the most influential group in the senate and con-
trolled its deliberations.

Roman nobles occupied executive offices not only for very short
periods (usually for a year), but also infrequently; as we have seen, the
practice of iteration was gradually brought to an end in the early decades
of the third century (see above, p. 346). By then the most that a successful
politician could hope for was to be consul once during his career. On the

52 Brunt 198z[H10z], 1-22; K. Hopkins and G. P. Burton in Hopkins 1983[{A68], 31 ff.

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 393

other hand, all those who held curule magistracies were lifelong mem-
bers of the senate, which consequently is where real power came to
reside. In the developed Republic the magistrates were the servants of
the senate. They consulted it as a matter of course before taking any
action, and were in practice bound by its decrees. The senate meanwhile
controlled the state’s finances, the levying and disposal of military forces,
the allocation of magisterial tasks (‘provinces’), relations with foreign
powers, and the maintenance of law and order in Rome and Italy. The
senate also had complete charge of all matters relating to the state
religion. It was not only the governing body of the Roman state; it was
also a repository of political wisdom and experience, and the guardian of
traditional moral values. ;

The emergence of the senate as the principal organ of government in
Rome can be located in the period of the Samnite wars. In part it was an
inevitable consequence of the growth of the Roman state and the
increasing complexity of its affairs. But equally important was a change
in the character of the senate and in the method by which it was recruited.

The senate of the early Republic is for us an ill-defined and elusive
entity.53 We know little about its composition and even less about its
function. It seems reasonably certain, however, that in archaic times the
main function of the senate was to act as an advisory body (consilium), first
to the kings, and subsequently to the chief magistrates (consuls and
consular tribunes), who apparently chose their own advisers and thus
determined its membership. The senate was therefore not a permanent
body, but was liable to change from year to year at the discretion of the
magistrates in office.

This general conclusion emerges from an important passage of Festus
(290 L) which states that originally no disgrace attached to men who
were passed over (praeteriti — i.e. excluded from the senate), because the
consuls (or consular tribunes), following the precedent of the kings, used
to choose their closest friends from among the patricians, and then from
among the plebeians. According to Festus, this informal system was
changed by the Ovinian plebiscite, which transferred to the censors the
task of drawing up the roll of the senate, and enjoined them to select ‘the
best man from every rank’ (whatever that means).

The date of the Lex Ovinia is unknown, but it probably belongs to the
fourth century, and is certainly earlier than 318 B.c., when we know the
senate was selected by the censors.% Its most important consequence was

53 Cf. above, p. 185f (with a different view).

34 The standard view is that the first censorial /ec¢io was that of 312 B.c., and that the Lex Ovinia
was enacted in the vears 318-312 (see e.g. Rotondi 1912 [A114], 233—4). But Diodorus xx. 36.5 refers
explicitly to Thy [sc. atyxAnrov rH] Ure Ta mpoyeyernuévwy Tinta Karaypageiaay — that is, the
senate enrolled by the censors who preceded Appius Claudius (viz. those of 318 B.c.).

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394 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

that those who were chosen became senators for life; their position was
no longer dependent on the favour of the magistrates in office. By laying
down the criteria of selection (which are unfortunately obscure to us) the
law also restricted the discretionary powers of the censors; and while it
gave the censors the power to omit names from the roll of the senate, it
appears to have specified that only men who had shown themselves to be
morally unfit for membership should be passed over. The Lex Ovinia
therefore marks an important stage in what Mommsen called ‘the
emancipation of the senate from the power of the magistrates’.55

The growing ascendancy and increasing independence of the senate in
the third century served the interests of the most conservative elements
of the Roman political elite. The independent power of the executive
magistrates was gradually diminished, and popular participation in the
affairs of state was confined within increasingly narrow limits. These
developments systematically undermined the rudimentary democracy
that had occasionally been evident earlier in the fourth century. At that
time, as we saw (p. 347), political leadership had been exercised by
charismatic individuals who depended on popular favour, and the
people’s assemblies had been more prominent in the administration of
affairs. The operation of this ‘plebiscitary’ system® is best exemplified by
the career of Q. Publilius Philo, whose supremacy was based on the
electoral support of the people. Philo’s laws of 339 B.c. (above p. 342)
advanced the principle of popular sovereignty, and aroused the hatred of
the nobility, which persisted throughout his life.

This antagonism came toa head in 314 B.c., when Philo was accused of
complicity in a plot to subvert the Republic. The affair is exceedingly
obscure. Livy, the only source to refer to it, evidently had no clear notion
of what he was supposed to be reporting. What began as an inquiry into
disaffection among the aristocracy of Campania was apparently extended
to Rome, where it became a full-scale witch hunt against those who had
‘conspired against the state’ by forming caucuses for the purpose of
obtaining magistracies (Livy 1x.26.8—9). Livy (or his source) seems to
have regarded the event as a reaction by the nobility against the threat of
competition from parvenus (‘new men’). In this respect it recalls his
earlier reference to the Lex Poetelia of 358 B.c. This was a law against
electoral ‘malpractice’, designed to inhibit the ambition of new men ‘who
had been accustomed to frequent markets and meeting places’, a practice
that was now curtailed or forbidden (Livy vir.15.12). That is to say, the
law restricted the freedom-of candidates to canvass support from the
voters.

55 Mommsen 1887-8[Ag1], 111.2.880.
5 I use the term ‘plebiscitary’ in the modem sense, as in Weber 1976[A135], 156 etc.

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 395

In both cases the reference to ‘new men’ seems anachronistic, since in
the generations after the Licinio-Sextian laws most plebeian office-
holders were new men by definition; moreover, one of those impeached
in 314 was a patrician (M. Folius). It is more probable that the law of 358
B.c. and the inquisition of 314 were directed against demagogic practices
in general and form part of a wider attempt by the emerging oligarchy to
limit eligibility for high office to ‘acceptable’ persons, and to prevent the
rise of charismatic individuals.

The events of 314 B.c. can thus be understood in terms of a conflict
between the oligarchic tendencies of the newly established ‘patricio-
plebeian’ elite and the plebiscitary leadership of men suchas Q. Publilius
Philo. The existence of such a conflict can help to explain the extraordi-
nary career of Appius Claudius Caecus, the dominant figure in Roman
public life in the years on either side of 300 B.c. Appius Claudius is often
described as the political heir of Philo.5’ Although there is no explicit
evidence of a direct connexion between the two men, it is nevertheless
extremely probable that they were associated in some way; and it is
certainly reasonable to argue that Appius’ programme was a continu-
ation of Philo’s. Philo disappears from the record after his trial in 314
B.c., at wich lic was acquiiicd; perhaps he died soon afterwards. Two
years later, in 312, Appius took office as censor.

Although he was already an established political figure, aged perhaps
about forty, Appius had not yet done anything that the later tradition
considered worthy of remark. But his tenure of the censorship was truly
sensational, and created a political upheaval.

The main events can be briefly summarized. Appius first ordered the
construction of the great public works that bore his name: the highway
from Rome to Capua, and Rome’s first aqueduct, which brought fresh
water into the city from the Sabine hills. Both projects entailed a vast
expenditure of public funds; nevertheless, according to one source
(Diodorus xx.36), Appius acted without authorization from the senate
and emptied the treasury. In drawing up his list of the senate he outraged
the Establishment by passing over men who were considered better than
some of those chosen (Livy 1x.30.1—z). His selection of new senators was
regarded as wilful and partisan; and great offence was caused by the fact
that many of them were the sons of freedmen.

Appius Claudius’ most important measure as censor was a reorganiza-
tion of the tribes, which had the effect of increasing the voting power of
the city proletariat in the tribal assemblies. The precise nature of the
change is unclear; Livy merely says that Appius corrupted the Forum and
the Campus (that is, probably, the electoral and legislative assemblies) by

57 E.g. Garzetti 1947[H112], 184-6; Staveley 1959[H128], 417.

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396 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

distributing the lower classes (4umiles) throughout all the tribes. The
humiles were presumably the propertyless inhabitants of the city (artisans,
traders and so forth), who had hitherto been confined to only four of the
thirty-one tribes, and were therefore under-represented in the assemblies
in proportion to their numbers. A large number of them, probably the
great majority, appear to have been freedmen or the descendants of
freedmen.** Appius’ reform will have distributed them among all the
tribes, including the so-called rustic tribes, which had formerly been the
exclusive preserve of country dwellers and landowners. The measure had
far-reaching implications; in Livy’s words it transferred the control of
the assembly from the ‘honest citizens’ (integer populus) to the faction of
the Forum, the ‘lowest of the low’ (forensis factio .. . humillimi: Livy
Ix.46.13—14).

Appius also interfered with the organization of the state religion; our
sources have some entertaining anecdotes about his activities in this
sphere, but we are not in a position to understand their political signifi-
cance (if any). What is clear is that Appius’ radical reforms aroused a
storm of protest from conservative nobles. It is said that even his own
colleague in the censorship, C. Plautius, was so scandalized by the new
senatorial roll that he resigned his office, leaving Appius to carry on
alone (and with a free hand). It is further alleged that Appius failed to lay
down his office when the full eighteen-month term had elapsed. Indeed,
according to some sources he was still in office as censor in 308 B.c., when
he stood (successfully) for the consulship (Livy rx.42.3).

However that may be, there can be no doubt about the intensity of the
opposition that Appius’ measures aroused. His new list of senators was
not recognized by the consuls of 311 B.c., who continued to summon the
senate using the old list that had been drawn up by the previous censors.
Conceivably the consuls’ justification was that by enrolling his own
clients and passing over more ‘worthy’ choices Appius had contravened
the Lex Ovinia.®° In any event, Appius’ designs in regard to the senate
were thwarted. His reform of the tribes, however, remained in force fora
time, and was directly responsible, according to Livy, for the election of
Cn. Flavius as curule aedile for 304 B.c. (Livy 1x.46.10).

Cn. Flavius, a secretary (scriba) of Appius Claudius, was the son of a
freedman and the first of his class to hold a curule magistracy. The
conservative establishment was appalled, and many of the nobles refused
to treat Flavius with the customary respect due to a curule magistrate
(Piso fr. 27P); Livy records moreover that some removed their gold rings
and military decorations in protest. As aedile Cn. Flavius published

58 As implied by Plut. Py#b/. 7. This is a highly controversial matter. | have followed the

interpretation offered by Treggiari 1969[Giso], 39-42.
59 Thus Staveley 1959[H128], 413.

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 397

an account of the legal procedures known as /egis actiones, which had not
hitherto been accessible to the people, and posted in the Forum a
calendar which indicated the dies fasti— the days on which legal business
was permitted. There seems no reason to question the view of all the
sources that the publication of the ws Flavianum (as it was later called) and
the calendar was a politically motivated act, nor the clear implication of
most of them that Flavius was acting as Appius Claudius’ agent.

A reaction soon followed. In the same year as Flavius was aedile, the
censors Q. Fabius Rullianus and P. Decius Mus reversed Appius’ tribal
reorganization, and confined the Aumiles once again to the four ‘urban’
tribes. Then, when Cn. Flavius dedicated a shrine of Concord in the
Comitium, much to the annoyance of the leading nobles, a law was
immediately enacted that no one should dedicate a temple or an altar
without the authorization of the senate or of a majority of the tribunes of
the plebs.

The actions that are attributed to Appius and his agents clearly mark
him out as a radical populist who aimed to build a personal following
among the mass of the people. The sources lay stress on the size of his
clientela (e.g. Cic. Sen. 37; Val. Max. viit.13.5); one text even alleges that
he aiicaupicd iv iane Ovei aul italy OY micans Of his Clicnts.*" This goncral
assessment of Appius Claudius as a revolutionary democrat is clearly set
out in the surviving sources, especially in Diodorus, who gives the most
coherent account of his censorship (xx.36). It was accepted by Mommsen
(who likened Appius to Cleisthenes and Pericles) and remains the
standard view, in spite of hypercritical and revisionist challenges.®?

Itis true that the later annalistic tradition was hostile to the whole clan
of the patrician Claudii,°3 and that Livy’s stereotyped picture of Appius
Claudius as a tyrannical and overbearing patrician cannot be accepted as
it stands (the facts which Livy himself records are against it!); on the
other hand, there is no reason whatever to doubt the basic outline of
Appius’ actions, as they are reported in the sources, nor to modify the
record so as to reduce him to the level of a run-of-the-mill politician who
did nothing out of the ordinary. Some of the traditional hostility to
Appius may in any case reflect contemporary rhetoric; as we have seen,
Fabius Pictor had access to traditions going back to the time of Fabius
Rullianus, who was a personal enemy of Appius Claudius.

© Pomponius, Dig. 1.2.2.7, claims that Flavius stole the formulae from Appius, who had been
planning to publish them himself.

61 Suet. Tib. 2. Mommsen argued persuasively that the ‘Claudius Drusus’ of the MSS must be a
reference to Appius Caecus (Mommsen 1864-79[Ago], 1.308-9).

62 The ‘hypercritics’ include Palmer 1970{A1o2], 269-70, and most recently Wiseman
1979[B190], 85-9. The chief revisionist is Garzetti 1947[H112], 175ff, who attempted to ‘normalize’
all of Appius’ political acts.

63 Mommsen 1864-79[Ago}, 1.287ff, cf. Wiseman 1979[Brgo], 85-9.

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398 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

The chief difficulty in seeing Appius as a democrat is the fact that on a
number of occasions he appears as the upholder of patrician privileges
and an opponent of the plebs. In 300 B.c. he vigorously opposed the
Ogulnian plebiscite, which admitted plebeians to the two senior priestly
colleges, and on two separate occasions he attempted to exclude plebei-
ans from the consulship and to bring about the election of an all-patrician
college.

But aristocratic pride is perfectly compatible with demagogic
methods, as Mommsen noted (citing the examples of Pericles and
Caesar). Appius’ opposition to the Lex Ogulnia is not really a major
difficulty because that law was in no sense a democratic measure. Like
other political reforms in the Conflict of the Orders, it benefited only a
narrow group of well-to-do plebeians and did nothing for the rights of
the lower classes. Under the Lex Ogulnia the major priestly colleges
became self-perpetuating oligarchic cliques, divided equally between the
patrician and plebeian members of the new nobility and recruiting new
members by co-option. The choice of pontiffs and augurs was not in any
way subjected to popular will (the colleges were not opened to election
until much later), and anyone not acceptable to the conservative estab-
lishment could be excluded. Appius himself was not a member of either
college.

As for his attempts to contrive the election of an all-patrician college of
consuls, the most probable explanation is that Appius was challenging
the system of power sharing between the two orders, rather than the
right of plebeians as such to hold the consulship (which is how Livy and
his sources interpreted it - x.15.8-9). The target was not the political
rights of plebeians in general, but rather the privileged position of the
plebeian nobility, which had acquired a guaranteed share of the senior
magistracies, irrespective of the wishes of the electorate.

The point can be illustrated by the consular elections of 297 B.c., in
which Appius himself was a candidate (Livy x.15.7—12). When it became
clear that the people’s first choice was Q. Fabius Rullianus, who was not
even a candidate (as consul in office Fabius was presiding over the
elections; his candidature would have been technically illegal), Appius
proposed that the rules should be waived and that both he and Fabius
should be consuls. This was evidently what the result of a free election
would have been.

In the event Fabius withdrew, allowing Appius Claudius to take the
patrician place in the consular college, and thus resolving the immediate
issue. But the point of principle was whether or not the comitia should be
entitled to elect whomsoever they wished, regardless of the rules. Appius
evidently contended that they should, on the basis of the clause of the
Twelve Tables which stated that ‘the people’s last decree is the effective

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 399

law’ (Livy vu1.17.12; Cic. Ba/b. 33). The argument, in other words, was
that an electoral vote constituted a decree of the populus, and as such
automatically overruled any previous enactment that might conflict with
it.

Livy explicitly attributes this line of reasoning to Appius at the time
when his prolonged tenure of the censorship came under attack (1x. 3 3.9);
and the case is outlined in full in a speech ascribed to Appius Claudius
Crassus, Caecus’ grandfather, at the time of the Licinio-Sextian
Rogations (Livy vi.40.15—20; cf. x.7.2). The argument which Livy or his
source(s) thus foisted on the Claudian house is so distinctive, and so
obviously accords with Appius Caecus’ actual view of popular rights,
that we might reasonably conjecture that the tradition has preserved a
genuine example of the political thought of Appius Claudius Caecus.

This speculation is not necessarily improbable, given that much
reliable information about the political debates of this period would have
been available to Fabius Pictor; moreover, we happen to know that some
of Appius’ own words survived in written form. Appius Claudius has a
place in the history of literature as the father of Latin prose. Works
attributed to him include political speeches (Cicero refers to the one in
which Appius opposed peace with Pyrrhus in 279 B.c. (p. 471) — Sen. 16;
Brut. 61) and a work of jurisprudence (Pomponius in Dig. 1.2.2.36); and a
collection of his sayings (carmina) circulated in the late Republic, and was
already known to the Greek philosopher Panaetius in the second century
B.C. The most famous of the sayings to survive is the adage faber est suae
quisque fortunae (‘each man is the architect of his own fortune’). The
various works attributed to Appius Claudius are sometimes dismissed as
late forgeries, but without any good reason. The fact is that the
traditional picture of Appius does have some authentic touches. That is
what makes him so different from Furius Camillus, Manlius Torquatus,
Valerius Corvus and the other lifeless heroes of the early Republic. As De
Sanctis observed, he stands out as the first living personality in Roman
history.®

It is clear, however, that in his political actions Appius was swimming
against the tide. His efforts to democratize the assembly and to assert its
sovereignty were ultimately abortive; popular government was never
established in Rome. On the contrary, the outcome of the political
struggles of the fourth century was the formation of a self-serving and
self-perpetuating oligarchy which restricted the magistrates’ scope for
independent political action and at the same time emasculated the
theoretical sovereignty of the people’s assemblies.

“4 E.g. AS. Gratwick in the Cambridge History of Classical Literature Il: Latin Literature
1982[{Bz4], 138-9. 65 De Sanctis 1907-64{A37], 11.216.

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400 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

This may seem at first sight a somewhat paradoxical result, given that
the Roman tradition regarded the political history of this period asa long
but ultimately successful struggle for liberty and the assertion of the
rights of Roman citizens. Moreover, some modern scholars have argued
that at this time Rome was progressing towards democracy. But we
must recognize that there is a great difference between what the Romans
regarded as liberty (/ibertas) and the modern (or for that matter the
ancient) concept of democracy. For the ordinary citizen /ibertas signified
equality before the law, and the right of appeal (é#s provocationis) against
the arbitrary decisions of a magistrate. Both principles were enshrined in
the Twelve Tables, and reinforced by subsequent legislation; for
example a Lex Valeria of 300 B.c. confirmed the citizens’ right of appeal
(Livy x.9.3—6). The history of the institution of appeal (provocatio) in the
Roman Republic is very obscure (pp. 219ff), and the circumstances in
which it operated in practice are the subject of much controversy. But,
however we interpret the significance of provocatio, the fact is that the
Roman ideal of juristic liberty and equality for all citizens was never
matched by true political liberty or equality of political rights. In political
terms /ibertas was an aristocratic concept, which signified the unhindered
operation of a system of hierarchical institutions, and the freedom of
members of a noble elite to compete equally and openly for political
honours.

The theory that in the fourth century Rome was gradually advancing
towards democracy is based on the fact that at this time the people’s
assemblies gradually acquired the right to pass legally binding enact-
ments. The final stage in the process was the Lex Hortensia, a measure
passed in circumstances that are entirely obscure to us. Even the date is
uncertain, but it was between 289 and 286 B.c. We are told that Q.
Hortensius, a plebeian who is otherwise unknown, was appointed
dictator to deal with a plebeian secession caused by debt. How the
emergency arose, and how it was resolved, we cannot say (but it is
interesting to observe that the Lex Poetelia of 326 B.c. had not, in fact,
abolished the problem of indebtedness). The memorable result of the
crisis of ¢. 287 B.c., however, was a law that appeared to endorse the
principle of popular sovereignty.

But this impression is largely illusory. To regard the Conflict of the
Orders as a struggle for democratic rights is to misunderstand the facts
(and perhaps also to submit to a whiggish fallacy). The problem,
naturally, is that the apparent success of the plebs did not in the event
result in democratic government. This has led historians to speak about
the ‘frustration of democracy by the Roman establishment’, and to argue

6 Cf. the remarks of De Martino 1972—-5[A35}], 1-491ff.

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 4or

that the embryonic growth was somehow aborted almost at the moment
of its birth.67 Alternatively it has been suggested that the Roman state
became so prosperous as a result of war and imperialism that the masses
were content to leave the conduct of affairs to the senate and did not
bother to exercise the democratic rights which they had actually man-
aged to acquire.®

There is certainly some truth in these propositions. The alleviation of
economic discontent by successful conquest undoubtedly caused the
people to acquiesce in the rule of the oligarchy, and created a consensus
that was to last until the time of the Gracchi. But that is not to say that
Rome was a latent democracy, or that the people possessed the constitu-
tional means to withdraw their consent at any time. In fact the political
reforms of the fourth century had the effect of reducing the powers of the
plebeian assembly. As we have seen (above, pp. 334ff), the leading
plebeians fulfilled their aspirations and obtained admittance to the
nobility, but by doing so they ceased to represent the political interests of
the rest of the plebs.

The Lex Hortensia was certainly an important concession (the legisla-
tion of the Gracchi would have been impossible without it), but it did not
radically affect the basic structure of Roman political institutions. Demo-
cracy never materialized at Rome because the popular assemblies could
not function as autonomous institutions. They did not meet as a matter
of course, as the Athenian ecclesia did, but only when summoned by a
magistrate — a consul or praetor in the case of the comitia (the full state
assemblies), a tribune in that of the concilium plebis (the assembly of the
plebs). Moreover they could not initiate anything; they merely answered
‘yes’ or ‘no’ to questions (rogationes) that were put to them by the
magistrates, or chose between candidates who were presented to them.
Their role in politics was therefore passive rather than active, and
depended absolutely on the magistrates who had the right to ‘deal with
the people’ (agere cum populo). In this sense every election, enactment or
judicial verdict was a bilateral act, as Mommsen saw.® The problem was
that the two parties to this form of contract were potentially, and often
actually, antagonistic. The magistrate did not necessarily share the
people’s interest, and was under no obligation to represent them;
although elected by the people, he was not in any way accountable to
them either during or after his term of office.

Ordinary citizens had little freedom of speech, in the basic sense that
they were denied access to all formal means of making their views known
and of taking political initiatives. Only magistrates were entitled to

§7 Toynbee 1965{A131], 1.31 ff. E.g. Scullard 1980[A1tg], 129-30.
69 Mommsen 1887-8[Ag1}, 11.303—4.

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402 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

address the people and to propose laws. The citizens had no right either
to debate or to amend the proposals put to them. It follows that the
Roman people could advance their own interests only in collusion with a
magistrate; and for them to do so against the wishes of the ruling class
required a kind of conspiracy between magistrate and people. Not
surprisingly this did not occur very often, and when it did the oligarchy
was still able to use a variety of devices to thwart a proposal, for instance
by using the tribunician veto or by the announcement of unfavourable
omens before or during an assembly. When in 133 B.c. a tribune of the
plebs allied himself with the assembly in a systematic attempt to promote
the interests of the poor against those of the possessing classes, the result,
not surprisingly, was violence, bloodshed, and the start of the Roman
revolution.

Two further points need to be made in connexion with the subject. of
democracy (or its absence) at Rome. First, the voting in the assemblies
was organized by groups, rather than on the basis of a simple majority of
all those present and voting. In the comitia tributa and the concilium plebis
the voting units were the local tribes, which numbered thirty-three after
299 B.C. (the definitive figure of thirty-five was reached in 241 B.c., when
the last two tribes were added). Four of them were the so-called ‘urban’
tribes, the rest were ‘rustic’ tribes. The significance of this distinction is
that (after the failure of Appius Claudius’ reform) only landowners and
country dwellers were registered in the rustic tribes, while the landless
inhabitants of the city were confined to the four urban tribes, and
consequently had very limited voting power in proportion to their
numbers. Since the assemblies were held only in Rome, the system
artificially favoured the wealthy landowners who lived in the city but
owned country estates, and discriminated both against the urban prole-
tariat and the far-flung peasant small-holders who for practical reasons
were unable to attend the comitia in person.

The voting units of the comitia centuriata were the 193 centuries, which
were distributed among five economically defined ‘classes’ (p. 165). But
the distribution of the centuries among the classes went in inverse
proportion to the actual numbers of citizens, so that the wealthiest class,
which was numerically relatively small, contained by far the largest
number of centuries; together with eighteen centuries of aristocratic
knights, the eighty centuries of the first class could command an absolute
majority of the total. At the other extreme proletarians who fell below
the minimum property qualification for membership of the fifth class
were enrolled in a single century, and were often not called upon to vote
at all.

The assemblies were thus organized to give the greatest influence to
the propertied classes. Another factor that gave the comitia centuriata in

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 493

particular an inherently conservative character was the division of the
centuries between iuniores (men aged between 17 and 45) and seniores (men
aged 46 and over). Since both had an equal number of centuries within
each class, it followed that the seniors, who represented fewer than 30 per
cent of the total electorate, carried more than twice as much political
weight as the juniors.

The second point is that only members of the elite could stand for
magisterial office. Whether or not there was a formal property qualifica-
tion, it is obvious that only the wealthy could put themselves forward for
positions that were unpaid and might entail considerable expense. More-
over, given the restrictions on canvassing and the absence of any means
of making oneself known to the electorate, an outsider without powerful
connexions and backing would have had no chance at all. It is significant
that the term nobilis means literally ‘well-known’.

(b) Economic and cultural developments

The period of the Samnite wars saw an unparalleled increase in the public
and private wealth of the Romans. Their most obvious gain was in land.
The ager Romanus, which after the conclusion of the Latin war in 338 B.c.
had comprised ¢. 5525 km.2 and supported a population of around
347,300 persons (see above, p. 367), had expanded by 264 to 26,850 km.2
with a population in the region of 900,000 (Fig. 47: p. 382). On these
figures the Romans possessed more than zo per cent of the total land
surface of peninsular Italy (reckoned at 125,445 km.?) and nearly 30 per
cent of its population (estimated in total at something over 3 millions).7°

The process of expansion entailed a considerable redistribution of
landed property within the annexed territories, where large numbers of
impoverished Roman citizens were resettled on small allotments. The
principal stages in this process were marked by the formation of new
rustic tribes (Fig. 49), the Scaptia and Maecia in 332 B.c., the Oufentina
and Falerna in 318, and the Aniensis and Teretina in 299. A further
large-scale resettlement of Roman citizens took place on land annexed
from the Sabines and Praetuttii after the campaigns of M’. Curius
Dentatus in 290 B.c. The original proprietors were wholly or partly
dispossessed. Many of them were killed, enslaved or deported en masse to
other areas.

We have no means of knowing how many people were involved in
these schemes, but a reasonable guess would be that between 20,000 and
30,000 adult male Romans were resettled, together with their depen-
dants. In addition, Romans and their allies benefited from the foundation

7 Afzelius 1942[J134], 192; cf. Brunt 1971[Azq1], 59.

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 4°95

Table 9. Latin colonies, 334-263 B.C.

Date Colony Region Adult male Cum. Area Cum.
(B.C.) settlers Total (km?) Total
334 Cales Campania 2,500* 2,500 100 100
328 Fregellae Latium 4,000 6,500 = 305 40
314 Luceria Apulia 2,500* 9,000 790 1,195
313 Saticula Samnium 2,500 11,500 195 1,390
313 Suessa Aurunca Latium 2,500 14,000 180 1,570
313 Pontiae Islands (Latium) 300 14,300 101,580
312 Interamna Lir. Latium 4,000* 18,300 265 1,845
303 Sora Latium 4,000* 22,300 230 2,075
303 Alba Fucens Central Appennines 6,000* 28,300 420 2,495
299 Narnia Umbria 2,500 30,800 185 2,680
298 Carseoli Central Appennines 4,000* 34,800 285 2,965
291 Venusia Apulia 6,000 40,800 800 3,765
289 Hadria Central Appennines 4,000 44,800 380 4,145
273 Paestum Lucania 4,000 48,800 540 4,685
273 Cosa Etruria 2,500 51,300 340 5,025
268 Ariminum Umbria 6,000 $7,300 G50 = 5,675
268 Beneventum Samnium 6,000 63,300 = § 75 6,250
264 Firmum Picenum 4,000 67,300 400. 6,650
263 Aesernia Samnium 4,000 71,300 9385 =—-7,035

(All figures are rough estimates, except for those marked *, which are recorded by
Livy.)
Source: A. Afzelius 1942[J134], with modifications.

of Latin colonies, which in the period 334-263 B.c. took up a further
7ooo km.? of conquered land and involved the resettlement of over
70,000 men and their families (see Table 9).

Rome’s increasing prosperity is reflected in the development of the
city (Fig. 50) and the growth of its population. The profits of conquest, in
the form of booty and indemnities, were used to finance a programme of
public building ona scale that had not been seen since the great age of the
Tarquins. The literary sources record the construction of fourteen
temples in the years from 302 to 264 B.c. (see Table 10), but this is
certainly not a complete list of those actually built; eight of the fourteen
are known from Livy, and belong to the period before 293 B.c., for which
his text is fully preserved. Moreover, archaeology provides evidence of
other temple construction, either not mentioned in literary sources, or
not securely identified with otherwise known buildings. These include
the temples of Portunus and Hercules Invictus (see below), and two of
the temples of the Largo Argentina (temple C and temple A) which

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‘The Fig which appears here in the printed edition has
been removed for ease of use and now appears as an
additional resource on the chapter overview page’.

Fig. 50. The city of Rome in the early third century B.c.

t luppiter Optimus Maximus (509); 2 luno Moneta (344); 3 Saturn (497); 4 Rostra (338); 5
Janus; 6 Semo Sancus (466); 7 Salus (302); 8 Quirinus (293); 9 Iuno Lucina; 10 Tellus (268); 11
Castor (484); 12 Regia; 13 Vesta; 14 Atrium Vestae; 15 Iuppiter Stator (294); 16 Mercury (495);

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“The Fig which appears here in the printed edition has
been removed for ease of use and now appears as an
additional resource on the chapter overview page’.

17 Diana; 18 Iuno Regina (392); 19 Minerva; 20 Ceres (493); 21 Ara Maxima Herculis; 22
Hercules Invictus; 23 Portunus; 24 Fortuna and Mater Matuta (396); 25 Pons Sublicius; 26 Pons
Aemilius; 27 Aesculapius (291); 28 Apollo (431); 29 Bellona (296); 30 Largo Argentina,
Temple ‘C’; 31 Largo Argentina, Temple ‘A’; 32 Fors Fortuna (293); 33 Tomb of the Scipios.

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406 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 407

VIA SALARIA \ 7 VIA NOMENTANA

Porta Coilina

a Tibet
apnento™

CAMPUS MARTIUS

FORUM HOLITORIUM
Porte Caymentalis

rta Querquetulana
VIA TUSCULANA

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Porta Flumentana «Tryoh™ AOS >

—Insula~>27 74 aN

ibérina: 26

023, ul
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25 2

Aqua Appia (31
a Aqueduct

Porta Caelimontana

JANICULUM

100 200 300metres
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Porta Lavernalis

Fig. 50. The city of Rome in the early third century B.c.

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408 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

Table 10. Roman temple construction, 302-264 B.C.

Date (B.c.) Temple Location

302 Salus Quirinal

296 Bellona Victrix Circus Flaminius (Campus Martius, S.E.)
295 luppiter Victor Quirinal?

295 Venus Obsequens Circus Maximus

294 Victoria Palatine

294 Iuppiter Stator Palatine

293 Quirinus Quirinal

293 Fors Fortuna Right bank of Tiber, at 6th milestone
291 Aesculapius Tiber Island

278 Summanus Circus Maximus

272 Consus Aventine

268 Tellus Carinae (Esquiline)

267 Pales Unknown

264 Vertumnus Aventine

Source: Wissowa 1912[G519], 594-5; Wissowa lists a further 18 temples which
certainly or probably belong to the period 293-218, for which Livy’s full text does
not survive.

probably date from the late fourth and early third centuries B.c.
(respectively).7!

These public undertakings are a symptom of the rapid development of
the city of Rome in the early third century. Its precise rate of growth and
the size of its population at any particular stage cannot be accurately
measured, but we can make informed guesses. According to one estimate
Rome had a population of ¢. 30,000 persons in the middle of the fourth
century, rising to 60,000 by 300 and exceeding 90,000 at the time of the
war against Pyrrhus.”2 If anything these figures err on the side of caution,
but they are certainly of the right general order of magnitude; on any
reasonable estimate, Rome was one of the largest cities in the Mediterra-
nean world in the early third century. A significant indication of its
growth was the need to construct aqueducts, of which the Aqua Appia in
312 B.C. was the first; it was followed by the Anio Vetus, begun by the
censor M’. Curius Dentatus in 272 B.c.

As for its food supply, a city with a population of 90,000 could not
possibly have been maintained from the agricultural surplus of its own
hinterland, and must have imported a substantial proportion of its
requirements, which would have amounted in total to more than 18,000
tonnes of wheat (or calorific equivalent) per year. The only realistic
assumption is that the necessary imports were transported by water. As

7 F. Coarelli in Roma medio-repubblicana 1973[B4o1}, 117-20.
72 Starr 1981[Aras]}, 15-26.

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 4°9

there was as yet no harbour in use at Ostia (the smal! Roman settlement
founded early in the fourth century was no more than a fort to guard the
estuary), we must suppose that a substantial traffic made its way along
the Tiber to the Portus Tiberinus, the river landing situated opposite the
eastern tip of the Tiber island.

As it happens the literary tradition confirms that the Tiber had been
used for the importation of grain since the beginning of the Republic (if
not earlier). Food shortages are recorded on a number of occasions in the
fifth century, when the Romans sent to Etruria, Campania and Sicily for
emergency supplies.73 These places are all accessible from Rome either by
river or by sea. Under the year 411 B.c. Livy explicitly reports that grain
was brought down the Tiber from inland Etruria as well as by sea from
coastal Etruria and Sicily (1v.52.5—8).

The authenticity of these fifth-century notices is naturally far from
certain, but most scholars are now prepared to accept them.”4 The fact
that there are far fewer records of similar shortages in the fourth century
is, if anything, a point in their favour, for two reasons. First, in the fourth
century one of the principal causes of food crisis — enemy action — had
been largely eliminated; as we have seen, the Romans took care to fight
their wars on other peoples’ territories, rather than on their own.
Secondly, the growth of the city made it necessary for the Romans to
import grain on a regular basis, and not just in times of exceptional
shortage; moreover their military power was such that they were no
doubt always able to procure whatever they needed, by force if necessary,
and thus to minimize the effects of a food crisis. Even so, occasional
shortages still occurred fom time to time, as in 299 B.c. (Livy x.11.7).

The use of the Tiber for grain transport naturally raises the question of
the scale and nature of Rome’s maritime trade in general. Archaeological
research has shown that the area of the Portus had been frequented from a
very remote epoch;’5 more important for the purposes of the present
discussion is the fact that a substantial redevelopment seems to have
taken place there at the end of the fourth century B.c. The earliest phase
of the temple of Portunus, the god of the harbour, belongs to this period,
as does the temple of Hercules Invictus, which stood beside the Ara
Maxima. The Ara Maxima was itself the site of a cult of Hercules and had
long-standing associations with foreign trade. It is tempting to speculate
that the late fourth-century buildings reflect the growing importance of
Rome’s maritime trade at that period; and the attractive suggestion has
been made that the redevelopment of this part of the city should be dated
to the censorship of Appius Claudius, since it was he who transformed

3 References and discussion in Ogilvie 1965[B129], 256-7; cf. above, pp.13 3ff.

™ The case was made by Momigliano 1936{F 48], 374ff (=id. Quorto Contributo 331ff).
7% La Rocca 1977[Gg9}, 380ff.

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410 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

the worship of Hercules at the Ara Maxima from a private concern of the
Potitian clan into a publicly administered cult.7

At this point it may be noticed that the picture of Rome as a major
importing centre conflicts with the conventional view of the Roman
economy at the start of the third century. This view” maintains that
Rome was a simple agrarian community with a near-subsistence eco-
nomy and little trade. Local craft production was at a rudimentary level
and of poor quality; such luxuries as were to be found at Rome must have
been imported from more advanced centres of production in Etruria,
Campania or Magna Graecia. The Roman ruling class was culturally
unsophisticated and not particularly rich by comparison with other
contemporary elites or in relation to the mass of the peasantry. Tradition
itself told stories of horny-handed senators who worked their own fields,
lived in unplastered hovels and cooked their own turnips (see especially
the account of M’. Curius Dentatus in Plutarch, Cat. Mai. 2.1). Above all
the Romans were indifferent to maritime activity. According to Seneca
(Brev. Vit. 13.4) the man who first persuaded the Romans to take to the
sea was Appius Claudius Caudex, consul in 264 B.c. Polybius tells us that
in 260 the Romans possessed no naval resources at all, because ‘they had
never given a thought to the sea’ (I.20.12).

This traditional view has been challenged, however, and in the
extreme form outlined above it is certainly unacceptable. We cannot take
Polybius literally, nor Seneca seriously. The foundation of coastal garri-
son colonies, the Latin settlement on the Pontine islands, and the Decian
plebiscite of 311 B.c., which established a small fleet under two naval
commanders (dunxmviri navales: Livy 1x.30.4), Show that the Romans had
not been entirely unconcerned about naval defence in the late fourth
century. Nevertheless, it remains true that the object of these measures
was primarily to guard the coast of Latium against pirates or enemy
attacks, and possibly to provide naval assistance for land forces where
appropriate (as in 310 B.c. ~ Livy 1x.38.2); they do not necessarily have
any bearing on the question of Rome’s status as a commercial centre. The
negative point made by the traditionalists, that the Roman government
cannot be shown to have had any ‘commercial policy’, remains valid. The
second treaty between Rome and Carthage of 3 48 B.c. (it was renewed in
305 according to Livy 1x.43.26) contains clauses dealing with trade; but
while they envisage the possibility that Roman traders might visit Sicily
or Africa, the primary object of these clauses was clearly to protect the
commercial interests of Carthage, not those of Rome (text in Polybius
1.24: cf. p. 527).

76 Livy 1x.29.9-11; cf. Coarelli 1975(B308], 279.
7 E.g. Frank 1933[G71], 1.6; M. Rostovtzeff, Social and Economic History of the Roman Empire,

Oxford 1957, 13. For a reasoned critique of the conventional view see Starr 1981[A1z5], who is
closely followed in this section.

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 4I!I

On the other hand, it cannot be seriously maintained that the Romans
were not engaged in trade at all. Archaeological evidence shows beyond
doubt that Rome was an important manufacturing and trading centre in
the years before and after 300 B.c. As usual, pottery is the most plentiful
category of material, and the evidence it provides is decisive in this case.
It is virtually certain that several different kinds of pottery, including
wares of high quality, were manufactured in Rome in the early third
century. The material includes not only decorated plates of the so-called
‘Genucilia’ type, but also black-glaze ware — of which the pocu/a form a
particularly interesting group.’8 The most characteristic body of mater-
ial, however, is a group of black-glaze pots decorated with small em-
bossed stamps which come from a Roman workshop known as the
‘Atelier des petites estampilles’. The significant point about this high-
quality fabric, which was produced in large quantities in the early years of
the third century, is that it was widely exported; examples have been
found not only in many parts of Central Italy, but also along the coasts of
southern France and North-East Spain, in Corsica and the Punic part of
Sicily, and in the Carthaginian territory in North Africa.7

It is important that we should be clear about the limitations of this
evidence. We might reasonably argue that the distribution of finds of
Roman fine pottery represents the tip of an iceberg, and implies a
geographically extensive trade, not only in ceramics but in other items as
well. But we have no means of reconstructing the content, volume or
mechanism of this trade, nor of assessing its general economic impor-
tance. We cannot say, for instance, what percentage of Rome’s gross
product (itself unknowable) was represented by manufacture and trade.

But the evidence that is currently available nevertheless supports a
position that is qualitatively different from the traditional idea of third-
century Rome as a simple rustic community. It should be emphasized
that the original proponents of the traditional view were not attempting
to set up a ‘primitivist’ model of the early third-century economy in the
manner of the Cambridge school.8° On the contrary, they were (if
anything) ‘modernists’, whose purpose in stressing the supposedly
primitive character of Rome was precisely to isolate it from the more
advanced economic and cultural conditions that prevailed elsewhere in
the Mediterranean (and even in Italy) at the beginning of the third
century B.c.8!

But an unprejudiced assessment of the archaeological facts shows

78 J.-P. Morel in Roma medio-repubblicana 1973{B401}, 43-6.

79 Morel 1969[B361], 94ff.

8 Fora lucid summary of the views of the ‘Cambridge primitivists’ (principally A. H. M. Jones
and M.1I. Finley) see K. Hopkins in Garnsey, Hopkins and Whittaker 1983[G77], x—xiv.

81 This is clear at least at far as Frank is concerned; his explicit rejection of all theory (Frank
1933[G71)], 1-vili) makes him an unconscious modernist.

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412 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

decisively that Rome was neither isolated nor culturally backward at this
time. A high level of material culture is attested not only by the products
of fine pottery workshops, but by a whole range of artefacts: terracotta
sculptures and miniature funerary altars (‘arule’), carved stone monu-
ments (among which the sarcophagus of L. Cornelius Scipio Barbatus,
cos. 298, holds pride of place), bronzes, and even a fragment of an
extremely fine fresco painting (Fig. 2: p. 13). The latter item, from atomb
on the Esquiline, depicts a historical scene involving a certain Q. Fabius.
According to the most probable interpretation, the tomb was that of Q.
Fabius Rullianus, and the painting part of an illustrated account of
episodes from the Samnite wars.®2 The finest example of Roman crafts-
manship to survive from this period is the Ficoroni Cista, an engraved
bronze casket that was found in a tomb at Palestrina (Praeneste); one
leading authority has dated it to around 315 B.c.8 An inscription on the
handle tells us that the Cista was made in Rome by a craftsman named
Novius Plautius. Although it is sometimes dismissed as a unique excep-
tion, there is in fact no reason to suspect that the Ficoroni Cista is not a
representative example of the bronzework that was being produced in
Roman workshops in the years around 300 B.c. It is exceptional only in
the sense that no other surviving Cista is demonstrably of Roman origin.

Literary evidence moreover indicates that at this time bronze statues
began to be erected in Rome. They include the equestrian statue of Q.
Marcius Tremulus, consul in 306 B.c. (cf. above p. 386), and the bronze
group of the twins Romulus and Remus with the she-wolf, which was set
up by the curule aediles Cn. and Q. Ogulnius in 296 B.c. These two also
placed a bronze statue of Iuppiter in a four-horse chariot on the roof of
the Capitoline temple, in place of the terracotta one that had been there
since the end of the sixth century (Livy x.23.11-12). Three years later
colossal bronze statues of Iuppiter and Hercules were set up on the
Capitol; and in the Comitium, according to a strange story in Pliny, the
Romans put up statues of Pythagoras and Alcibiades, ‘the wisest and
bravest of the Greeks’ (historians have not failed to point out the
‘western’ bias apparent in this strange choice). The only surviving
remnant of republican bronze sculpture is the head of the so-called
‘Capitoline Brutus’. Although it is usually ascribed to this period, the
date — and even the authenticity — of the ‘Brutus’ remain controversial.®4

The only testimony that conflicts with this picture of Rome as a
prosperous and culturally sophisticated place is the fact that later tra-
dition portrayed its aristocratic leaders as models of frugality and sim-

82 F, Coarelli in Affreschi romani dalle raccolte dell Antiquarium comunale, 1976[B277], 3-11.
83 Dohrn 1972(B321].
8 For the standard date (early third century B.c.), see Bianchi Bandinelli 1972[G14], 29.

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 413

plicity. But in reality the supposed poverty of men like M’. Curius
Dentatus and C. Fabricius Luscinus is a myth. The stories that were told
about them are more revealing of later Roman ideology than of the
economic conditions of the early third century; in any case the later
tradition was less concerned with the precise economic status of these
men than with the moral example they set. It is relevant to note that these
improving tales were almost certainly propagated by the Elder Cato,
who fashioned Dentatus and his like in his own self-made image; and it
would be unwise to base a historical account of the lifestyle of Roman
aristocrats in the third century on the ideological constructs of the Elder
Cato.

The nature of the economic and cultural changes we have been discuss-
ing can be further illustrated by an examination of three specific develop-
ments that occurred during the age of the conquest. The first is the
growth of slavery. We have already seen that Rome was well on the way
to becoming a slave society before the end of the fourth century B.c.
(above, p. 334); the mass enslavements that are recorded in the early years
of the third century must have advanced the process still further. We
have little specific information about the social and economic effects of
the process, but it is possible to construct a plausible account of the
changes that occurred.

It is reasonable to suppose, first, that many slaves were employed in
the houses of the rich and in trading and manufacturing enterprises in the
city; they added to the size of the urban population and in the course of
time changed its composition. Throughout the history of the Republic
the most important single cause of the growth of the urban plebs was the
importation, and subsequent manumission, of slaves. The social effects
of the process were already beginning to be felt at the time of Appius
Claudius’ censorship, as we have seen.

It is also extremely probable that slave labour was being used on a
large scale in agriculture. This contention is not seriously weakened even
if we choose to accept the moralizing tales about third-century senators
working their own land. It is sufficient merely to notice a revealing story
about Cato, who took pride in the fact that as a young man he had worked
with his own hands fogether with his slaves (Plut. Cat. mai. 3.2).

The development of large slave-run estates (/atifundia) is normally
dated to the period after the Hannibalic War, but there is no warrant for
this assumption. On the contrary, there is good reason to believe that
slaves were employed on the land from the late fourth century onwards.
The case rests on three connected arguments. First, as we have seen, the
ending of debt-bondage (formally abolished by the Lex Poetelia of 326
B.C.) must have created a demand for an alternative supply of agricultural

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414 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

labour to work the estates of the rich, a demand that can only have been
met by slaves. Secondly, the impoverished peasants who were freed from
dependence on the rich were left with no means of livelihood other than
their own inadequate landholdings. Their plight was remedied by suc-
cessful war and the colonization of conquered territories. Thirdly, the
mass emigration of tens of thousands of poor peasant families must have
led to a gradual depopulation of the old ager Romanus — a phenomenon
that is in fact referred to in the sources of the classical period®> — and
implies a radical change in the organization of landholdings and the
manner of their exploitation. What must have happened is that the land
was concentrated into larger holdings, which were worked by slaves
who were brought in to replace the former peasant small-holders.

The model therefore implies a continuous exchange of populations;
poor Roman citizens were sent away to colonize lands whose original
inhabitants were brought back to Rome as slaves. The process was
complicated by a change in the relative distribution of the inhabitants in
the old ager Romanus, witha greater proportion than before living in the
city, and a corresponding reduction in the population of the countryside.
The same land was worked by a smaller number of people; since they
were slaves they could be worked harder and organized more effectively
so as to produce a greater surplus. Increased productivity was stimulated
by the development of an urban market in the growing and prosperous
city of Rome.

In the absence of any specific testimony this reconstruction must
remain hypothetical; but it has the virtue of being able to account for the
mass enslavement of war captives (who must have been employed
somehow), and the economic growth that is presupposed by the increase
in the non-agricultural population of the city.

The second exemplary development is the appearance of Rome’s first
coinage. Precisely when, where and why the Roman state first issued
coined money are much debated questions, each involving complex
technical matters. The following is a brief summary of what seems to the
present writer to be the most convincing modern reconstruction, pre-
sented in the knowledge that many areas of doubt still remain to be
settled.86

The use of coined money was a Greek practice and was introduced
into Italy by the cities of Magna Graecia at an early date. Coins produced

88 Brunt 1971[A21}, 345ff, with full references. Brunt notes that ancient writers who complained
about depopulation had in mind only the free population, and ignored the slaves.

86 I have followed the version of Crawford 1974{Bz10]; 1985(Bz12], 25ff and Burnett
1977[Bz02}, 92ff; 1978[B203}, 121ff. A different dating and interpretation of some issues is adopted
in Chapter 10 (p. 476).

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 415

Fig. 51a. Silver didrachm with head of Mars on obverse, horse’s head and legend ROMANO
on reverse (RRC 13): ¢. 310 B.C.?

by the Italiot Greeks mostly had a local circulation, but by the end of the
fourth century had begun to penetrate into some of the native regions of
the Mezzogiorno. Indeed by this time some non-Greek communities
(especially in Campania, but also in Apulia and Lucania) were producing
their own coins on the Greek model. Moreover some formerly Greek
communities such as Cumae, which had been overrun by Oscan-speak-
ing natives at the end of the fifth century (see above, p. 284f), had
continued to mint coins after the Oscan takeover without any noticeable
break in the regularity of issues.

Early Roman coinage forms part of the monetary history of Campania,
which is where the first coins to be issued in the name of the Republic
were minted. Coinage was therefore a consequence of Rome’s political
involvement in Campania. The earliest ‘Romano-Campanian’ coins can
be dated to the fourth century, and belong to isolated and sporadic issues.
A small group of bronze coins, with a head of Apollo on the obverse, and
the forepart of a manheaded bull with the Greek legend PLMAIQN on
the reverse (RRC 1), was probably the first. The types are purely
Neapolitan, and it is reasonable to infer that they were minted at Naples
shortly after the treaty with Rome in 326 B.c., and perhaps in commemo-
ration of it. These coins probably circulated only in Campania, and
belong more properly to the monetary history of Naples than to that of
Rome.

Much more important is the first issue of Roman silver coins, the
didrachms with Head of Mars/Horse’s Head ROMANO (RRC 13; Fig.
s1a). This appears to have been an isolated coinage datable to the years
around 310 B.c. It was a substantial issue, to judge from the number of
dies, and it circulated widely in the South (though not, apparently, in
Rome). The mint is uncertain, but probably Campanian; the weight
standard is that of Naples. An isolated issue of this kind was almost
certainly minted for a specific purpose, presumably on the occasion of
some project involving large state expenditure. The most likely candi-
date is the construction of the Via Appia in the years 312-308 B.c. Once

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416 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

again a major innovation appears to be associated with Appius Claudius
Caecus.87

These sporadic isolated coinages did not give way to a regular
sequence of Roman coins until the time of the Pyrrhic War, which seems
to have been a crucial event for the monetary history of Italy. The
demands of the war led many Greek cities to reduce the weight of their
coins; some ceased to strike coins altogether. On the other hand coined
money began to circulate much more widely in non-Greek Italy than it
had done previously; and for the first time coins penetrated into
Samnium and the region of the central Appennines. This development
was a consequence of Roman activity, and almost certainly reflects the
fact that men from these regions were now serving in the allied contin-
gents of the Roman army.

The Pyrrhic War witnessed a second issue of Roman silver didrachms
(Apollo/Galloping Horse ROMANO — RRC 15; Fig. 51b) and the
beginning of a remarkable series of bronze issues. The bronze coins were
cast rather than struck, in units weighing a pound (324 gr.) and fractions
of a pound. The basic unit was the as, and the fractions the semis, triens,
quadrans, etc. Associated with the cast bronze coins were large bronze
ingots (‘currency bars’) weighing about five pounds each (RRC 3-12).
The cast bronze coinage is a very characteristic form, unparalleled
outside Italy. Within Central Italy, however, it was widespread, and was
produced at a number of different centres, mostly, if not entirely, in
imitation of Rome.

The date at which silver coins were first minted at Rome (as opposed
to Campania) is uncertain, but the most probable answer is 269 B.c.,
which the literary sources regard as a crucial date in the history of Rome’s
silver coinage. The coinage that can be ascribed to this year is the very
large issue of silver didrachms with Hercules/Wolf and Twins
ROMANO (RRC 29; Fig. 51). The types are interesting, and serve to
remind us that coined money was a medium through which a state could
advertise itself to the world at large. The Hercules/Wolf and Twins
coinage was followed, on the eve of the First Punic War, by an issue of
didrachms with a helmeted head of Roma/Victory ROMANO (RRC 22;
Fig. 51d). Such types are an indication of Rome’s growing self-conf-
dence, and awareness of her immense power.

In economic terms the introduction of coinage is not of great signifi-
cance in itself; the important stage in the early history of money is the
official designation of a specific quantity of metal as a monetary unit,
irrespective of whether the fixed unit is issued in the form of a coin. In

87 Crawford 1982[Bz11], 99 and 1985{Bzr2], 28ff, revising the opinion given in Crawford
1974{Bz10}, 1.37-8, 133.

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 417

Fig. stb. Silver didrachm (¢. 275-270 B.c.) with head of Apollo (legend: ROMANO) on
obverse, prancing horse on reverse (RRC 15).

Fig. s1c. Silver didrachm (269-6 B.c.) depicting head of Hercules on obverse, wolf suckling
twins (legend: ROMANO) on reverse (RRC 20).

Fig. 51d. Silver didrachm (265-42 B.c.) with helmeted head of Roma on obverse, Victory with
legend ROMANO on reverse (RRC 22.1).

Rome the fixed metallic unit was the as, a pound of bronze, which had
existed as an official measure of value long before the introduction of
coins. The Greek historian Timaeus seems to have attributed the desig-
nation of the as to king Servius Tullius, according to the most likely
interpretation of a highly problematic text.88 However that may be,
Rome’s monetary history goes back a long way before the fourth
century B.C.

8 Crawford 1976{Gqz], 198ff.

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418 8. THE CONQUEST OF ITALY

It follows that we need not search for elaborate explanations of the
introduction of coinage by Rome. In general ancient states issued coins
for financial, rather than for economic reasons. That is to say, coinage
was a convenient means of distributing the proceeds of booty, or of
making payments to large numbers of people such as soldiers or work-
men. It was not produced in order to facilitate exchange, or in further-
ance of any kind of monetary policy. For the Romans of the fourth
century B.c. the decision to issue money in the form of coin must have
been taken principally for reasons of prestige. Its economic importance
may have been minimal, but the appearance of Roman coins was an event
of great cultural significance. Coinage was a Greek device, and the
Romans’ adoption of it marks a conscious effort on their part to enter the
cultural milieu of the Hellenistic world. This brings us to the last of the
three developments referred to earlier, namely the increasing influence of
Hellenism on Roman life.

The influence of Greek culture on Rome can be traced back to the
beginning of Roman history. The archaeological record shows that
Greek artefacts and techniques were being imported as early as the eighth
century B.C., and in the archaic age the influence of Greek ideas on
Roman political, legal and religious institutions was pervasive. But
during the course of the fifth century Rome’s contacts with the Greek
world diminished, as the city entered a long period of recession and
isolation.

When Rome emerged in the second half of the fourth century as a
powerful military state, relations with the Greek world were re-estab-
lished on a new footing. The renewed influence of Greek culture
manifested itself not only in monuments and artefacts, as Rome, along
with the rest of Italy, adopted Hellenistic styles and techniques, but also
in the field of politics and religion. That leaders suchas Q. Publilius Philo
and Appius Claudius Caecus were infected by democratic political ideas
and practices seems certain. A point of particular interest is that the
former was, as far as we know, the first Roman noble to adopt a Greek
surname. He was followed by P. Sempronius Sophus (cos. 304 B.C.) and
Q. Marcius Philippus (cos. 281).

A number of Greek cults were established in Rome at this time. The
most spectacular example is that of the healing god Aesculapius, to
whom a temple was dedicated on the Tiber island in 291 B.c. A series of
appropriately militaristic cults were set up in the period of the Samnite
wars; they include those of Victoria, Iuppiter Victor, Bellona Victrix and
Hercules Invictus. These ‘victory cults’ were evidently based on contem-
porary Hellenistic models.®

89 Weinstock 1937[G315], 211ff.

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ROME IN THE AGE OF THE ITALIAN WARS 419

In contrast to the one-sided relationship of the archaic age, the long
and not always easy love affair that began in the fourth century was
reciprocated. The Romans’ enthusiasm for Greek culture was matched
by the close attention which the Greeks began to pay to Rome. A list of
the Greek intellectuals who were attracted to the subject of Rome and the
Romans at this time reads like a Who’s Who? of contemporary Greek
learning: the philosophers Aristotle, Theophrastus and Heraclides
Ponticus, the historians Duris, Hieronymus, Callias and Timaeus, the
poets Callimachus and Lycophron, and the scientist Eratosthenes. The
detailed evidence is well known and has been assembled many times;
there is no need to reproduce it here.®

The Greeks were attempting to understand the little-known Italian
Republic which had grown from nothing into a world power, and which
in 275 B.c. had won a sensational victory in the war against Pyrrhus. But
one senses that at the same time the Romans were also trying to come to
terms with the position in which they found themselves. The enthusiastic
adoption of Hellenism was itself a part of this search for an identity. This
became apparent at the end of the third century when Fabius Pictor
presented a definitive account of the Roman tradition to the public. His
History of Rome, the first ever by a Roman, was written in Greek.

® A penetrating and witty account in Momigliano 1975[A88], 12-21.

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CHAPTER 9

ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD
CENTURY

E. S. STAVELEY

I. THE ROMAN COMMONWEALTH

By the year 280 B.c., when Pyrrhus of Epirus first set foot in Italy, Rome
had already established control, direct or indirect, over a broad band of
the Italian peninsula extending from coast to coast and lying along its
length for a distance in excess of 240 km. (Maps 6-7). The ager Romanus
alone, the territory which was in the dominium of the Roman state, had
swollen eightfold in the space of just sixty years from a mere 2000 to
approximately 16,000 km.? (cf. also Fig. 47 (p. 382)). From the central
zone which incorporated the original urban tribes and those established
on Veientan territory it radiated in three distinct spurs. One of these, by
far the longest, embraced virtually the entire coastal belt from the Tiber
to the township of Cumae in the south-east corner of the Campanian
plain. Much of it was occupied by citizens with full voting rights — the
inhabitants of the enfranchised Latin states of Lanuvium, Aricia, and
Lavinium, and Roman settlers who were incorporated into the six new
tribes which had been formed both along the line of the Via Appia north-
west of Tarracina and in the fertile lower reaches of the Liris and
Volturnus rivers. With the exception of the old Latin settlements at
Ardea and Circeii and the very small maritime colonies at Antium,
Tarracina, Minturnae, and Sinuessa, the remainder of this strip, compris-
ing principally Velitrae, Privernum, Fundi, Formiae, and the Campanian
townships, was occupied by cives sine suffragio.' A second spur of ager
Romanus extended from Rome in a more easterly direction and was
separated from the coastal strip for most of its length by a succession of
Latin colonies and allied townships. This incorporated the fully enfran-
chised municipia of Nomentum, Pedum, Tusculum, and (perhaps) Labici,
and also the lands which had been used for viritane settlement in the fribus
Aniensis, east of Tibur, and the ¢ribus Publilia, north of Anagnia.2
Though broken up by those friendly Latin and Hernican townships that

' For a different view of the status of Lavinium and Velitrae see above, pp. 362, 365f.
2 This is the location of the ‘tribus Publilia favoured by Taylor 1960[G733], 52f. Beloch
(1926[A12], 357) placed it further south on the coastal strip.

420

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THE ROMAN COMMONWEALTH 421

had retained their independence, it extended through the territories of
the Aequi and of the townships of Frusino and Anagnia as far as
Arpinum on the middle Liris. The third spur incorporated the territories
that Rome had acquired most recently in her determination to drive a
solid wedge across the peninsula. It stretched in a north-easterly direc-
tion from the middle reaches of the Tiber to hit the Adriatic coast just
south of Asculum, and it took in the country of the Aequicoli and the
Sabines, very probably the Umbrian townships of Spoletium and
Fulginiae, and at least part of the lands of the Vestini. Further, after the
victory at Lake Vadimon and the routing of the Senones in 283 B.c.
Rome had appropriated a separate strip of Adriatic coastland, the so-
called ager Gallicus, where was founded in the same year the small Roman
citizen colony of Sena Gallica. Although M’. Curius Dentatus had already
initiated a programme of extensive land settlement, none of the territory
in this eastern spur was as yet included in the Roman tribes.

Hand in hand with the annexation of new lands had proceeded the
planting of Latin colonies, settlements designed originally as fortress
communities, and so positioned as to serve as defensive bulwarks
between the territory of a potential enemy and that of Rome and her
friends (Table 9; Fig. 48). Thus the five colonies of Fregellae, Interamna
Succusana, Suessa, Cales and Saticula, occupied much of the area divid-
ing the coastal strip of ager Romanus from the Samnite tribes to the north:
Luceria was more isolated, and safeguarded Rome’s position in northern
Apulia: while a later series of colonies planted around the turn of the
century, comprising Sora, Carseoli, Alba Fucens and Narnia, played a
vital part in Rome’s move to cut off the Samnites from Etruria. The two
most recent settlements lay at a considerably greater distance from Rome
but served a similar purpose in the changed circumstances which pre-
vailed following the Samnite collapse: one, Venusia, founded in 291, was
strategically placed on the common borders of the southernmost
Samnites, the friendly states of northern Apulia, and the potentially
hostile Lucanian tribes: the other, Hadria, founded in 289, lay on the
Adriatic seaboard where it dominated the coastal road between north
and south and helped to control the tribes of Picenum.

The identity and number of the communities already allied to Rome by
treaty in 281 is less certain; but, although no permanent decision had yet
been taken with regard to the Samnites, there is little doubt that the
system of individual treaties which was to form the lasting basis of
Rome’s relations with her Italian neighbours had already begun to take
shape. Several independent townships situated along the line of the Via
Latina to Capua, among them Fabrateria, Aquinum, and Teanum, had
for some time been numbered among her allies, and the victory at
Sentinum helped Rome to cement her existing relationship with the

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422 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

tribal peoples of the Marsi, Paeligni, Vestini, Marrucini, and Frentani,
and with townships in northern Apulia extending along Samnium’s
eastern flank at least as far south as Canusium. In Etruria Rome probably
based her relations on a series of truces (éndutiae) of varying duration
rather than on treaties (foedera),3 and it is probable that the four commu-
nities of Arretium, Cortona, Perusia, and Clusium, which had made
peace with Rome for a period of forty years in 294, lay on the northern
boundary of Rome’s present sphere of interest. To the east of the Tiber,
on the other hand, in Umbria, we know of only two states which were
bound to her by treaty, Ocriculum in the far south-west, and Camerinum
in the north.

Such was the extent of Rome’s commonwealth in 281 B.c. Yet in the
mere sixteen years between Pyrrhus’ invasion and the outbreak of the
First Punic War the advance of her authority in Italy was even more
spectacular than it had been in the preceding sixty. A detailed account of
her intervention in the affairs of the Greek townships of the south and of
her consequent confrontation with Pyrrhus is given elsewhere.* The
outcome was the absorption of the entire southern half of the peninsula.
The Greek cities, which, like Rome, enjoyed a city-state form of govern-
ment and which had long contained pro-Roman elements, received the
most favourable treatment, and, irrespective of whether they had played
a largely friendly or hostile role, were allied to Rome without loss of
territory. The tribal peoples of Lucania and of Bruttium in the toe of
Italy, who had for many years been a source of harassment to the Greeks,
were deprived of part of their land, Bruttium of forest terrain, which was
requisitioned to provide timber for shipbuilding, Lucania of the fertile
coastal plain on the Salernian Gulf on which in 273 the large Latin colony
of Paestum was founded, and also of a strip of territory to the north
where, according to Strabo,5 some of the Picentes were transplanted
some years later. The thickly populated region of southern Apulia and
Messapia was disregarded until 267-266, when a Roman army advanced
into the area to dictate treaties of alliance and perhaps to use token
resistance as a pretext for confiscating lands around the natural harbour
of Brundisium — the township which became the site of a Latin colony in
244 and later a thriving commercial port at the terminus of an extended
Via Appia. After Pyrrhus’ departure a final solution was also found for
Samnium. The tribal confederation was broken up into three parts, an
area retaining the name of Samnium in the north, Hirpinum in the south,
and Caudium — later to be subdivided into a series of townships — in the
west. Further, a broad belt of land covering the area later controlled by

3 See Scullard, 1967{A118], 274; Harris 1965[J174], 282-92 and 1971{J175], 94-6 argues that

regular foedera were employed.
* See Chap. ro. > Strabo v.4.13, p. zs1c; cf. Pliny, HN 1.70.

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THE ROMAN COMMONWEALTH 423

municipia at Allifae, Venafrum, Casinum, Atina, and probably Aufidena,
was annexed to produce a wedge of territory between the Samnite tribes
and the Marsi and Paeligni further north; and in accordance with well-
established practice two Latin ‘watchdog’ colonies were planted at
strategic points — the first in 268 at Beneventum on the common border
of the three new Samnite regions, the second five years later at Aesernia
in the angle of the arc of the Samnite territory newly annexed.
Despite her protracted involvement in the south of the peninsula in
this period, however, Rome found the time and the energy to consolidate
her position to the north and east of the city both through the further
annexation and settlement of land and through an extension of her
network of alliances. In her relations with her Etruscan neighbours in
particular she appears to have adopted a singularly aggressive stance.
When the Boii had advanced south in 283, certain of the Etruscan cities
had renounced their treaties with Rome and joined in the attack, with the
result that Roman armies had been occupied in Etruria for two full years
after the battle of Lake Vadimon.® Unfortunately, the Fasti Triumphales
name only the people of Volsinii and Vulci as those defeated in 280 and
record a triumph simply de E¢rusceis (‘over the Etruscans’) in the previous
year, so making it difficult for us to assess the extent of the defection.
Moreover, there is no record of any punitive action taken at the time or of
any consequent revision of treaties. What is certain, however, is that the
Romans gave the area their serious attention as soon as Pyrrhus set sail
from Italy. According to Dio,’ it was in 274 or 273 that their nearest
Etruscan neighbour, Caere, with whom they had enjoyed a special
relationship of hospitium for over a hundred years (p. 313f), was called
upon to surrender half its land and was incorporated as a municipium sine
suffragio. The occasion for this action is not known, but, as Caeretan
aggression is most unlikely at this juncture, it can only be supposed that it
was an act of opportunism, which the Romans may have sought to justify
on the basis of the treachery, true or alleged, of some elements at Caere
during the war of 282-280. For Rome there was clearly sound sense in
annexing territory so close to the city which provided the natural
maritime outlet for the expanding Roman hinterland; and her further
interest in the area is illustrated by the planting of three coastal citizen
colonies there during the First Punic War.8 This same year may well have
seen the reshaping of Rome’s relations with Caere’s northern neigh-
bours. Vulci and Volsinii, which are known to have broken faith in 28 3—
280, were mulcted of a sizeable block of territory, on part of which was
founded in 273 the Latin colony of Cosa. Tarquinii, which lay between

6 On the problem of dating these events see above, p. 381.
7 Dio fr.33, vol. 1, p. 138 Boiss.
8 These were at Castrum Novum (264 8.c.), Alsium (247 B.c.), and Fregenae (245 B.C.).

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424 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

these townships and Caere, is not mentioned by name in the tradition,
but, as the settlement of the second-century colony of Graviscae sug-
gests, she too was at some stage deprived of part of her land. A favoured
date for this act of confiscation and for the rewriting of the Romano-
Tarquinian alliance is 268 B.c. at the expiry of the existing forty-year
treaty, but the mere lapse of a truce could not in itself have justified the
confiscation of land, and if, as is more probable, the pretext for this action
lay in the role the Tarquinians had played at the time of the Boian
invasion, it is not unreasonable to suppose that Rome waited to dictate
her terms only until her hands were free and her demands irresistible.
Significantly perhaps, it was also in 273 that diplomatic contacts were
first established with Ptolemy, reportedly at the Egyptian monarch’s
request.? In view of Egypt’s long-standing interest in the Etruscan iron
trade it is not improbable that her approach to the senate was prompted
by news of Rome’s new thrust northwards and by recognition of the
undisputed mastery of the Etruscan coastline which it afforded her. This
is still more likely to have been the case if, as Beloch believed,!° Rome
used this opportunity to bring the more distant northerly states of
Populonia, Volaterrae, Rusellae, and Pisa into her net as allies and so
effectively to extend her sphere of influence to the line of the Arnus.

There was one further intervention in Etruria at the end of this period,
which is worthy of note. In 265 a request was received from the Volsinian
aristocracy for help in suppressing their freedmen, who, as Zonaras has
it,1' had succeeded in seizing all the magistracies, making themselves
senators, and setting up a democratic constitution. An army was sent
from Rome, which began a siege that lasted over twelve months before
the city was finally stormed, razed to the ground, and rebuilt at a nearby
site for occupation by the aristocrats and by those who had remained
loyal to them (Fig. 52). The incident is of interest not only because it is a
rare, if not unique, example of major Roman interference in an ally’s
internal affairs, but also because it throws some light upon the consider-
ation that Rome may have extended to the governing class in many of the
communities on which she imposed her terms (p. 387). The favoured
treatment of pro-Roman aristocracies in Campania is well attested, but it
is not unlikely that in Etruria also the Romans ensured that friendly
aristocrats suffered less than most from land confiscation, perhaps
permitting and even encouraging them to farm on the annexed ager
publicus. The statement of Orosius that the Volsinian rebels criminally
seized the land of their rulers!? suggests that the revolt may have been
provoked by just such a private arrangement; and, if this was so, Rome
could obviously not afford to ignore it.

9 Eutropius 11.15. Cf. Livy, Per. xiv; Val. Max. 1v.3.9; Dion. Hal. Aat. Rom. xx.14; Dio fr.41, vol.
1, p. 139 Boiss. '9 Beloch 1926{A1z], 457-8. '! Zonar. vit.7. '2 Oros. tv.5.5.

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THE ROMAN COMMONWEALTH 425

0 0.5 1 metres

Fig. 52. Inscription on donarium (found at the Sant’Omobono sanctuary) recording its erection
by M. Fulvius (Flaccus) after the capture of Volsinii in 264. From M. Torelli, Quaderni
del? Instituto di Topografia Antica delf Universita di Roma 5 (1968), 71ff.

It is a common assumption that Rome’s further advance into the
Umbrian highlands in this period was occasioned by the revolt of her
allies, the Picentes, which broke out in 269 and was quelled by the
combined consular armies in the following year. Certainly, steps de-
signed to consolidate her hold in the north-east followed this incident in
quick succession: the foundation in 268 of the Latin colony of
Ariminum, which was carved out of the northern section of the ager
Gallicus annexed some thirteen years earlier; the annexation of the whole
Picentine land save for the Greek coastal township of Ancona and an
arc of territory around Asculum; the transportation of large numbers of
Picentes to the ager Picentinus on the west coast; and finally in 264 the
planting of a second large Latin colony on the coast at Firmum. Yet it is
difficult to believe that the Picentes acted without direct provocation or
that they freely selected this date to invite a trial of strength rather than
One some ten years earlier, when Rome was fully engaged with Pyrrhus.
Rome’s interest in the region is illustrated by her decision, surely taken
before the Picentine revolt, to colonize Ariminum with a view to
protecting the as yet largely unoccupied ager Gallicus; while her determi-
nation to entrench herself further south is illustrated both by the grant of
the full franchise to the lowland Sabines in the same year and by the
progress which must by then have been made in the settlement of the
highland Sabine region and of the coastal strip north of Hadria to
warrant the creation of two further tribes in these areas in 241. It is not,
therefore, improbable that she also actively sought a pretext for linking
the two areas of ager Romanus by further annexation. Significantly, within
two years of the events of 268 a Roman consul was engaged in a campaign
against the Sarsinates in the highlands of northern Umbria. This suggests
that in the east, as in the west, the policy of Rome was to distance the
Gallic threat by establishing a line of defence across the peninsula some
130 miles north of the city. Evidence about Rome’s treaty arrangements
with the Umbrians is scant, but it is a fair assumption that by 264 Rome
had extended her commonwealth to a line which lay roughly along the
river Arnus to Arretium and then through the upper Tiber valley to
Ariminum.

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426 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

What can be said about the nature of this commonwealth, which had
assumed what must have appeared to the senate of that time to be its
optimum size? As Toynbee rightly emphasized, the much-used term
‘federation’ as applied to the association of communities which made up
Roman Italy is a misleading one. Federalism implies some form of
participation by member states in the policy-making process, however
indirect. Yet in Italy there existed not even the machinery for effective
consultation: the determination of the all-important issues of foreign
policy remained firmly with the senate, magistrates, and assemblies of
Rome, which together reflected the views only of the full citizens who
were registered in the tribes. Moreover, any meaningful co-operation
among the unenfranchised communities themselves was effectively pre-
cluded both by the general considerations of distance and poor commu-
nications and by the deliberate policy which Rome had adopted of
breaking up existing leagues and tribal associations into their basic parts
and of contracting separate alliances with the smallest units (p. 364f).
But, though the member states of Rome’s commonwealth fell far short of
federal states, they nevertheless enjoyed an appreciable measure of
autonomy in the management of their domestic affairs. Italian allies,
Latin colonies, even the municipia sine suffragio (municipalities without
voting rights (at Rome)’), may more appropriately be described as
having been Rome’s satellites rather than her subjects.

The Italian allies for their part enjoyed near-total sovereignty in the
domestic sphere. Each maintained its own form of government and laws;
each retained its own language and the right to manage its own economy
by levying its own taxes and minting its own coinage; and none, with the
exception of Tarentum, Rhegium and Metapontum, where special cir-
cumstances obtained, was ever called upon to accept a Roman garrison.
The sole obligation of the allies to Rome was to contribute to her military
or naval needs. A select few, indeed — those who had contracted treaties
with Rome at an early date or who had voluntarily entered into an
alliance without being directly or indirectly subjected to the constraint of
Roman arms — enjoyed an association based upon a foedus aequum (‘equal
treaty’), under which the contractual arrangement was simply that each
party should render assistance to the other in the event of its being the
victim of aggression: in these cases a decision as to whether to send
assistance to Rome, and, ifso, how much, lay at least in theory with the
ally. The vast majority, onthe other hand, were bound by treaties which
required them to contribute armed contingents on request up to a
stipulated maximum. Even this military commitment, however, did not
represent a serious encroachment upon sovereignty. The units were
raised and financed by the allied states and served under their own
commanders; and, even if Rome had requisitioned the maxima

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THE ROMAN COMMONWEALTH 427

permitted, she would still herself in proportion to the total population
have shouldered a military burden at least twice as heavy as that of her
Ttalian allies.13

The Latins enjoyed the same freedom as the Italians in the manage-
ment of their own affairs and were subject to the obligation to provide
Rome with military contingents on a similar basis. What particularly
distinguished them from the Italians was that they had an acknowledged
affinity with Rome which, had circumstances been different, would have
sufficed to qualify them for the Roman franchise. Many of the members
of the more recently founded Latin colonies were actually themselves
Romans or of Roman descent, while the people of the older Latin
townships, which had been either original members or colonies of the
Latin League, even though they may have cherished their independence,
were of the same culture as the Romans. It was this affinity which was
recognized by the i#ra Latina (‘Latin rights’) which they enjoyed (cf. p.
269), and in particular by the ius migrationis (‘right of transfer’) ana the ins
suffragii ferendi (‘right to cast a vote’), the former guarantecing to any
Latin the right to move to the ager Romanus and by the very act of so doing
to become eligible for enrolment as a civis, the latter providing that any
Latin present in Rome should be able to cast a vote in a single voting-unit
to be determined by lot. It is improbable that the right of migratio was
invoked to any great extent before the second century, when it began to
be abused and was consequently restricted, and it is certain that the
limited suffrage was viewed as symbolic rather than politically meaning-
ful; but it was the possession of this body of rights, together perhaps with
the fact that the Latins were called on to bear less onerous burdens of
taxation and military service than citizens, which reconciled them to their
non-citizen status even when the obstacles of distance and poor commu-
nications that had originally dictated it had been removed.

Unfortunately, we have little information about Rome’s administra-
tion of those areas which had been incorporated into the territory of
Rome sine suffragio (‘without voting rights (at Rome)’), nor are we told
very much either about the attitude of the half-citizens towards their
status or about Rome’s long-term intentions as to their future. All that
can be said with assurance is that in the period between 338 and 268 the
concept of civitas sine suffragio (‘citizenship without voting rights (at
Rome)’) had been adapted to suit very different situations and needs. The
Original recipients, the Campanian states (p. 367), may well have re-
garded it as in some measure a privilege; for the establishment of a close
tie with Rome not only served to lend support to the authority ofa ruling
class part of which had already established links with the Roman nobility:

'3 For a slightly different calculation see above, p. 388f.

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428 9- ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

it also facilitated the promotion of a profitable commercial partnership,
which, though perhaps sought by the Romans, was not without its
benefits for the Campanians themselves. The special nature of this
relationship is exemplified by the right which the Campanians perhaps
retained of serving in their own separate /egio,'4 and by the close co-
operation on the economic front which underlay the production of a
joint Romano-Campanian coinage (cf. p. 415); and it is reflected also in
the tendency of the ancient writers to refer to the Campanians as socii
(‘allies’), whether or not the use of that term had a juridical basis.15
Nevertheless, it is probably a mistake to overstress this aspect of the
association or to liken it in any way to the Greek concept of isopolity
(égomroXreia). The Campanians, it is true, retained their own form of
government and code of law, and it is possible that with their tradition of
independence they would have spurned the Roman franchise in 338, had
it been offered, as being inconsistent with municipal autonomy; but
nonetheless it should not be forgotten that the Campanians had been
defeated in war and that they had subsequently been incorporated in the
Roman state and subjected to the munera (‘obligations’) of Roman
taxation and military service.

In many respects the circumstances and the nature of the grants of
civitas sine suffragio which were made to the Campanians and to the
neighbouring city-states to the north were markedly similar. The annex-
ation of these latter townships was normally consequent upon some
hostile act, and, except in the isolated cases of Satricum and Anagnia,!6
where treachery had been blatant, the new citizen municipalities con-
tinued to enjoy a considerable measure of local autonomy. Moreover,
although land was often mulcted in the first instance for settlement by
Romans, there is little evidence of extensive redistribution within the
area left under municipal control. Indeed, the decision of Rome to
introduce a constitutional anomaly into her commonwealth by despatch-
ing small groups of colonists to key points on the Tyrrhenian seaboard
who, on account of the very small allotments made available to them,
needed to be enticed to volunteer by promises of a vacatio militae
(‘exemption from military service’) and the retention of the franchise, is
at least partly to be explained by her desire to minimize any offence to the
local population. But in terms of Roman motivation there was an
important difference between the grants of citizenship made to

'@ Livy, Per. xv; Oros. 1v.3.4. There is considerable disagreement among scholars on this issue.
Compare Beloch 1926[At2], 576; Heurgon 1942[J59], 201ff; Bernardi 1942[J141], 91ff; Toynbee
1965[A131], 1.3974. 15 Diod. xtx.76.4; Livy 1x.6.4; 7.1.

6 Following its revolt and reconquest in 306 Anagnia was incorporated as a civitas sine suffragio
with certain restrictions on its magistrates (Livy 1x.43.24); Satricum, which revolted after the battle
of Lautulae and was recovered in 313 (Livy 1x.16.9—18), was probably deprived of self-government.

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THE ROMAN COMMONWEALTH 429

Campania and those made to her northern neighbours. In the case of the
Campanian states Rome’s object had been to devise a form of association
which would be lasting and mutually beneficial. In the case of the other
municipia she had viewed the civitas sine suffragio as no more than a
convenient instrument of annexation which, on account of the extent of
devolution involved, had the supreme advantage of relieving her of any
significant increase in her administrative responsibilities.

Into yet another category fall the tribal lands such as the ager Gallicus
and the extensive areas of ager publicus which were seized from states
which retained their independence. The feature of these areas was that
they were not dominated by existing townships and had therefore to be
administered centrally by prefects responsible to the praetor urbanus at
Rome. Unfortunately, the distribution of citizens and non-citizens in
these parts of the Roman territory is an unknown quantity. In many cases
full citizens will have moved on to the territory to farm ager publicus,
while, to judge by the allied complaints made at the time of the Gracchan
land act,!7 substantial tracts of the border lands continued to be occupied
and farmed on sufferance by members of neighbouring Italian communi-
ties; but of the size and economic standing of the native population there
is no record. It was perhaps only in the well-populated Samnite uplands
that Rome succeeded in encouraging the development of new municipal
centres, to which eventually she could delegate the tiresome administra-
tive duties which she was herself so ill-equipped to discharge. Elsewhere,
even the bringing of roads will have led only to the formation of modest
communal centres, fora or conciliabula so named, which were too small to
be self-administered and which primarily served the needs of the fully
enfranchised settler.

The question of when these very different types of half-citizen area
received the franchise is one on which there is little ancient evidence and
no modern consensus. The sources record the upgrading of civitas sine
suffragio on only three occasions — in 268 for the lowland Sabines, in 211
for the Campanian equites, and in 188 for the municipalities of Fundi,
Formiae, and Arpinum.'® Were these exceptional grants, or did many
others go unrecorded? There is one school of thought which maintains
that the civitas sine suffragio came at some stage to be viewed by the
Romans themselves as probationary, and that it must consequently have
been transmuted into the full franchise as soon as the barriers of distance
had been broken down by the building of roads, and those of language
and culture by a process of planned exposure to Roman law and manners.
Toynbee has further argued for early enfranchisement, particularly in the
non-municipalized areas, on the ground that Rome could not have

17 Cic. Rep. 1.31; ut.41; App. BCi. 1.21. Vell. r.ig.s; Livy xxitt.5.g; XXXVIUTI.36.7-9.

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430 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

afforded to harbour such a disproportionate number of potential mal-
contents in the form of underprivileged citizens when she engaged upon
her life-and-death struggle with Hannibal.!9 But there is little warrant for
either of these assumptions. The first — that the cives sine suffragio were
regarded as novitiates — is belied by the fact that, in marked contradistinc-
tion to the Latins, they did not enjoy token voting rights and, on the most
natural interpretation of an admittedly garbled entry in Festus,” they did
not as a class possess the ius migrationis or the right of holding office. The
second — that they were fundamentally dissatisfied with their lot —
presupposes that they attached less value to the more tangible privileges
of citizenship than to a right of suffrage which very few would have had
either the inclination or the opportunity to exercise. It is true, of course,
that a sense of grievance was perhaps betrayed by the Campanians when
they defected at the time of Hannibal’s invasion. But, as we have seen,
theirs was a special case: they may have long ceased to harbour constitu-
tional objections to accepting the Roman franchise, and it is possible
that, seeing the currency of the civitas sine suffragio so markedly debased,
they came peculiarly to regard their non-voting status as a stigma.

Perhaps, therefore, the grants of full franchise recorded by our sources
were indeed exceptional. Each grant at least can readily be explained as a
response to a special circumstance. The Sabines of Cures not only
enjoyed ties with Rome that reached back to the age of legend, but were
situated immediately between the old tribal area of ager Romanus and the
region north of Reate which, from 290 B.C. on, was extensively settled by
Roman citizens. The grant to the Campanian equites simply recognized
their loyalty at the time of the defection in 216 as wellas the special nature
of the Romano-Campanian relationship. Fundi and Formiae, apart from
having the most natural claim after Campania, lay directly between the
territory of the ¢ribus Falerna and Teretina and that of the chain of Roman
tribes to the north. That Arpinum was also enfranchised in 188 may
possibly indicate that by the second century the development of closer
ties and the attractiveness of a potentially influential c/tentela was begin-
ning to dictate a more liberal attitude on the part of the nobility towards
the municipia south of the city, but it is likely that elsewhere at least the
status of civitas sine suffragio survived until the universal enfranchisement
of Italy which followed the Social War.

19 Toynbee 1965[A131], 1.403f.

20 Paul. Fest. 127M 155 L: ‘Municipes. Id genus hominum qui cum Romam venissent neque cives
Romaniessent participes tamen fuerunt omnium rerum ad munus fungendum cum Romanis civibus
praeterquam de suffragio ferendo aut magistratu capiendo’ (‘Municipes. The category of men who,
although they came to Rome but were not Roman citizens, nonetheless shared with Roman citizens
in everything pertaining to the fulfilment of their obligation (#s#nws) except in the casting of a vote or
the holding of office.’)

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ROME AND THE GAULS 431

II. THE NORTHERN FRONTIER: ROME AND THE GAULS

If further evidence be needed that Rome’s wars in the north of the Italian
peninsula were largely of her own devising, we need point only to the
almost total lack of activity in that quarter during the entire twenty-four
years of the First Punic War and to the launching of a full-scale assault
upon the Etruscan township of Falerii in the very year in which peace
with Carthage was signed. The Romans marched out in 241 with two
consular armies, destroyed the fortified city of the Faliscans, transplanted
the inhabitants to a new town some three miles distant from the old site,
and confiscated half their territory. The pretext for the attack was some
unspecified act of non-compliance with the instructions of Roman
officials which could well have been wholly justified by the expiry of the
fifty-year treaty that had been contracted between the two states in 293,
but it is evident that Rome’s true motive for her action was to strengthen
her hold upon Etruria by meting out to Falerii similar treatment to that
which had been meted out before the war to her western neighbours, and
to bring the community into the commonwealth on the basis of a
permanent foedus.

While the consuls of 241 were so engaged, the censors were also busy
taking steps to consolidate Rome’s hold upon the area north of the city.
The Latin colony of Spoletium was founded in southern Umbria on land
which lay along the direct route to Ariminum and just north of the
recently settled Sabine uplands, and a start was probably made on the
building of the Via Aurelia up the western seaboard towards Pisa. Two
new tribes, the Quirina and the Velina, were also created in this year, and
were the last to be formed. They accommodated respectively the settlers
in the highlands around Reate and those who had established themselves
on the Adriatic coast north of Hadria, but the circumstances which
dictated their creation in this particular year are obscure. The names of
the new tribes strangely did not fit the locations which they covered, and
there is much to be said for the suggestion of Lily Ross Taylor that the
plan to form new tribes with these names had all but been implemented
about thirty years earlier with a view to incorporating in them the new
citizens in the lowland Sabine region near Cures (Quirina) and in the
highland area round the Lacus Velinus (Velina).2! Political differences or
personal rivalry could well have accounted for the dropping of this
scheme in 268, when the original Sabine population was in fact enrolled
in the existing tribus Sergia. One possible explanation for the revision and
revival of the proposal in 241 may be that the settlement of citizens in the

21 Taylor 1960(G733], 59ff. Compare Toynbee 1965[A131], 1.377ff.

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432 9- ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

more distant areas covered by the new tribes had been progressive and
had only recently reached such proportions as were thought to warrant
the creation of new tribes.

The events of 241 demonstrate Rome’s concern both to extend and
strengthen her communications with her northern frontier, and to
consolidate her position in the rear. Just three years later she initiated
offensive operations at both the western and eastern ends of her line
(Map 4: p. 304). The war in the west was directed against the mountain
tribesmen of Liguria, who dominated the territory north of the Arnus.
The campaign, which continued intermittently for eight years from 238
to 230, was no doubt originally associated with the rape of Corsica and
had as its limited objective the clearance of the coastal strip north of Pisa,
from which in conjunction with Corsican pirates the Ligurians may well
have threatened shipping in the Tyrrhenian Sea. On the course of events
at the eastern end of the frontier there is some dispute. In a condensed
summary Polybius refers only to a combined assault upon the Roman
colony of Ariminum launched by the Boii and tribes from Transalpine
Gaul. This, he informs us, proved abortive on account of dissension
born of distrust within the Gallic ranks which led the Boii to murder their
own kings; and a Roman army that had been despatched to meet the
threat was speedily withdrawn.23 The annalistic version preserved by
Zonaras presents a fuller and more acceptable picture, which accords
with Polybius’ own statement that the peace with Gaul had lasted just
forty-five years. According to this, the Romans waged an offensive war
against the Gauls in 238, and again with combined consular armies in
237. The raid on Ariminum was thus a counter-offensive. Furthermore,
so far from treating the Boian act of self-destruction as an excuse for
disengagement, the Romans capitalized on it by temporarily abandoning
the Ligurian campaign, carrying the war into the territory of the Boii,
and confiscating a large portion of their land.?4

After this incident an uneasy peace with the Gauls reigned for eleven
years. The Romans, however, remained very conscious of the Gallic
threat, and when in 232 the tribune, C. Flaminius, introduced a contro-
versial bill providing for the distribution to individuals (viritim) of the
ager Gallicus, which had been seized in 283 and which lay to the immediate
south of Ariminum, both he and his political opponents were doubtless
very much aware of the relevance of the proposal to the whole question
of frontier security. Indeed, the bill is represented by Polybius as the
cause of the next Gallic war. There has been much debate about the true

2 Another possibility is that an increase in the number of tribes to a total of thirty-five was
deemed constitutionally desirable in order to facilitate the remodelling of the centuriate organiza-
tion. The precise date of this reform is, however, uncertain. See below, p. 44of and p. 454.

23 Polyb. 11.21. 2 Zonar. vi1.18.

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ROME AND THE GAULS 433

purpose of the Flaminian plebiscite and about the reasons for the spirited
resistance which it met with at the hands of the senatorial majority.
Influenced by the hostile tradition which represents Flaminius as a
demagogue and a forerunner of the Gracchi, many scholars have inter-
preted the measure in a domestic context, as an attempt to secure
generous allotments of fertile land for the Roman poor at the expense of
wealthy occupatores (‘appropriators’).25 But this is to presuppose without
warrant that there was still widespread land-hunger among Roman
citizens in the second half of the third century, and to underestimate the
impact which had been made upon Roman society by the very extensive
programme of colonization and land allotment that had been imple-
mented since the fall of Veii.26 More credible is the view that the
Flaminian bill had a military purpose, and that it aimed to establish a
strong block of loyal citizens behind the existing frontier line, thus
turning the ager Gallicus into a zone which could serve both as an effective
bulwark against enemy raids and asa possible launching-pad from which
a full-scale attack could be mounted against the Gauls of the Po valley.
From the resistance which Flaminius met in carrying his bill we might be
tempted to conclude that there were few who shared these general
objectives; but this would be a mistake. Although there doubtless were
influential men within the senate who favoured the adoption of a more
pacific and less provocative stance, the vehemence of the opposition to
the measure is to be explained less by widespread disapproval of his
broad strategic aims than by unease over the method by which he sought
toachieve them. Like M’. Curius Dentatusa generation earlier, Flaminius
chose to flout the accepted constitutional proprieties of the day by
proposing that citizenship should be retained by settlers who would be
debarred by distance from exercising their basic rights. In opting for
viritim distribution he no doubt alienated many who might otherwise
have been his sympathisers; but it is a measure of the importance which
he attached to attracting a sufficient number of settlers for his purpose
that he was prepared to offer the retention of citizen status and so to put
himself in the position of having in the last resort to legislate in the
concilium plebis against senatorial advice.

The war which according to Polybius was presaged by the Flaminian
plebiscite eventually broke out in 225 with the invasion of Roman Italy

25 For this interpretation see De Sanctis 1907-64[A37], t11.332f; Jacobs 1937[H115], 33, 71;
Cassola 1962{H103], 211 ff.

% See Fraccaro 1919[{H1 10], 81ff; Tibiletti 1949[G147}, 3ff; cf. above, p. 388. It may be estimated
that some 50,000 to 60,000 Romans had secured plots as colonists over the preceding century, not to
mention an unspecified number who had benefited by viritane assignation. That there was not a
pressing demand for land in 232 3.c. is indicated by a Gracchan boundary-stone found near
Pisaurum (CIL 17.719; ILLRP 474), which reveals that part of the ager Gallicus was still in the hands
of ocenpatores a hundred years later.

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434 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

by a combined Gallic force of some 150,000 foot and 20,000 horse. This
massive army, drawn in the main from the four tribes of the Boii,
Insubres, Taurini, and Lingones, who between them occupied the plains
of the middle and upper Po, and buttressed by a contingent of the Gaesati
from the Rhone valley, struck swiftly south through the mountains of
central Etruria as far as Clusium, and after plundering the countryside
inflicted severe losses upon the praetorian army which had been sta-
tioned in the centre to bar its progress. The Roman response was speedy
and unusually effective. One consul, L. Aemilius Papus, who had been
awaiting the expected onslaught at Ariminum, marched south, so induc-
ing the Gauls to seek an escape route up the west coast of the peninsula,
while the other, C. Atilius Regulus, who had been serving in Sardinia,
crossed with his legions to Pisa to cut off their retreat. The Gauls found
themselves surrounded by the two consular armies at Telamon, and the
resulting battle was one of the bloodiest to be fought on Italian soil. The
defeated Gauls alone lost 40,000 dead and 10,000 captured, and both the
consul, Atilius, and one of the Gallic kings were among those killed in
action.

That the Gauls on this occasion were the aggressors cannot be
disputed: it was they who made the first move, and then with an army
which had been carefully assembled for the purpose over many months.
This is not to say, however, that the Roman stance had been wholly
defensive in advance of the invasion or that the Gallic tribes had not
viewed their attack as a pre-emptive strike: Polybius himself confesses
that ‘many of the Gauls entered upon the war in the conviction that the
object of Rome in her wars with them was no longer just supremacy and
dominion over them, but their total expulsion and destruction.’?7 It is, of
course, fair to allow that the Romans may themselves have harboured a
similar fear, but one cannot but be struck by the unparalleled state of
readiness in which Rome entered upon this war. As has been noted, her
preparatory moves may be traced back to the settlement of the ager
Gallicus in 232. Soon afterwards she had attempted to deprive the Gauls
of the wherewithal to buy mercenary assistance by banning the purchase
of Gallic merchandise for gold or silver; she had cultivated the friendship
of the Veneti and of the Cenomani, who occupied the land to the north-
west of the Po delta, and had sent in troops to help man their borders with
the Insubres; and finally in 226, perhaps at some cost to her commercial
interests, she had contracted the Ebro treaty with Hasdrubal in Spain in
what proved to be a successful attempt to buy Carthaginian neutrality.
Polybius, further, supplies revealing details of the sheer size of the
military forces which Rome had amassed for a Gallic campaign. In

27 Polyb. 1.21.5.

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ROME AND THE GAULS 435

addition to the two consular armies, each of which consisted of two
legions, supported by allied contingents of 30,000 foot and 2000 horse,
she had at her immediate disposal the praetorian army of 50,000 foot and
4000 horse which was stationed in Etruria, the 20,000 Umbrians who had
been sent north to join with the Cenomani, and in Rome itself a mighty
reserve of 23,000 citizens and 32,000 Italians. Furthermore, in 225 she
took the unusual step of conducting a census of all her allies to determine
the full potential of armed soldiery on which she might call if the need
arose. In the circumstances it is difficult to believe that these vast forces
would have remained undeployed if the Gauls had not themselves struck
an early blow.

Whatever might have been their earlier intentions, the victory at
Telamon undoubtedly gave the Romans encouragement, and, in the
words of Polybius, ‘inspired them with hope that they might be able to
expel the Gauls totally from the Po valley’.28 In 225 the surviving consul
pursued the Boii into their own territory before returning to triumph,
and in the following year both consuls, though hampered by illness and
bad weather, succeeded in forcing this tribe into submission. In 223 the
consuls, C. Flaminius and P. Furius Philus, carried the war still further
into enemy territory by attacking the warlike Insubres, who dominated
the central northern plains of Italy which lie between the Po and the
Italian lakes. After crossing the river near Clastidium they made a detour
into the lands of the friendly Cenomani, whence they attacked the
Insubres from the east at a point on the river Oglio west of Brescia. The
ensuing battle, in which the enemy force of some 50,000 men was totally
routed, was a notable triumph for Flaminius, who had staked all on
victory by destroying the river bridges in the rear of his army and so
cutting off his line of retreat. It is one, however, for which he was given
little credit either by his political opponents or by the tradition which
they helped to mould, and it was left to the popular assembly, rather than
to the senate, to vote him the triumph which he had so richly deserved.

The final blow to the Insubres was delivered in the following year by
the consuls, Cn. Cornelius Scipio and M. Claudius Marcellus, but not
before they had overcome spirited resistance. When they crossed the Po
to lay siege to Acerrae, the Gauls, recently reinforced by 30,000 of the
transalpine Gaesati, created a diversion by launching an assault upon the
Roman supply base of Clastidium, south of the river. Marcellus was
consequently forced to detach himself from his colleague and to march
west to counter this threat, but, having surrounded and defeated the
enemy, he was able to rejoin Scipio, fresh from the capture of Acerrae,
and to stage a successful frontal attack upon the chief township of the

2% Polyb. 1.31.4.

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436 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

Insubres, Mediolanum (Milan). Thereafter resistance crumbled, and the
tribesmen surrendered unconditionally, ceding territory to Rome and
withdrawing into the Alpine foothills.

Thus in the space of four years’ campaigning the whole of Cisalpine
Gaul was brought under Rome’s sway, and the frontiers of Roman Italy
were extended to the Alps. In 221, in order to tidy up the operation, the
senate despatched the two consuls north of Venice into Istria to make
war upon, and to receive the submission of, all the tribes occupying the
area between the coast and the Julian Alps. This meant that all the low-
lying areas of present-day Italy were now secured and that only the
Ligurians in the mountain fastnesses of the north-west remained
unsubdued. Appropriately in 220 the supreme office of censor was
conferred upon C. Flaminius, who bothas tribune and as consul had been
one of the principal architects of the Roman advance, and who now set
the seal upon his work both by commissioning the building of the Via
Flaminia, which was to link Rome initially with Ariminum and the ager
Gallicus, and by founding two Latin colonies in the central Po valley, at
the key points of Cremona and Placentia.

Ill. THE CONSTITUTION: MAGISTRACY AND ASSEMBLIES

The dramatic widening of Rome’s horizons in the late fourth and third
centuries naturally imposed severe strains upon institutions which had
been designed for the government ofa city-state. In the period before the
Samnite wars her modest establishment of magistrates had supposedly
not been overstretched, and the two consuls in particular, though
frequently called upon to command armies in the field, had normally
been able to find time out of the campaigning season to devote attention
to the more important aspects of domestic government. Thereafter the
pressures built up rapidly. Wars became progressively more prolonged
and were fought at ever-increasing distances from Rome, with the result
that they not only demanded the undivided attention of the consuls but
also often called for the services of additional military commanders. The
rapid growth of the Roman commonwealth in Italy and the eventual
acquisition of overseas territories also placed heavy additional burdens
of a governmental and administrative character upon the ancillary
magistrates. Furthermore, the extension of the Roman frontier affected
the very character of the city-based voting assemblies. At one time easily
accessible to, if not always well attended by, the majority of citizens, they
became increasingly beyond the reach of vast numbers, who will have
lacked not only the inclination, but also the time and finance, to under-
take journeys of up to 240 km. simply to record their vote. With the
benefit of hindsight it can, perhaps, be convincingly argued that in the
circumstances it would have best served the long-term interests both of

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THE CONSTITUTION 437

Rome and her leaders if the senate had at this stage undertaken a
thorough and innovatory review of the organs of government. But the
full significance of change is rarely obvious to those who live through it,
and to a nobility jealous of its privileged role as a governing class the
prospect of such a radical reform held out few attractions. In the event,
therefore, the senate chose to meet each new crisis by sanctioning
restrained, and often ingenious, modifications to the existing constitu-
tion, which had the merit of providing effective medium-term solutions
without seriously undermining the balance of political power.

As far as the consuls were concerned, two developments in particular
served to ease their burden. One was the invention of the concept of
promagistracy — a device whereby with the approval of senate and
assembly the imperium of a senior magistrate could be prorogued beyond
the date at which he was obliged to lay down his office. This expedient,
first used in 326 B.C. (p. 347) and thereafter only sparingly until the time
of the Punic wars, had originally been designed to ensure continuity of
command in a vital area of war, but it was soon recognized to provide
Rome with the means of augmenting its supply of legionary commanders
without unduly increasing the number of annual magistrates or breaking
the traditional link between political leadership and military command.
The other development which lightened the consular load was the
mobilization of the plebeian officers, and of the tribunes in particular, in
the service of government.?? By the close of the fourth century the
economic burdens which had weighed upon the Roman poor had been
substantially eased by means of a programme of land settlement and
colonization. This had deprived the fribuni plebis of their raison d’étre as a
quasi-revolutionary pressure-group. Furthermore, the measure of offi-
cial recognition which the tribunes and the assembly through which they
operated had received, first in 449, and then more recently by the Lex
Hortensia of 287 (p. 400), had- rendered them a highly convenient
potential instrument of domestic government. The tribunes of the
middle republican period were in fact for the most part prominent
plebeian members of the governing class who viewed the office as a
stepping-stone to a higher magistracy. Asaclass they came to behave and
to be viewed, in the words of Livy, as mancipia nobilium (‘slaves of the
nobles’); and, if our sources tend to highlight occasions when tribunes
ran foul of the senatorial majority, this merely reflects the fact that these
officers had a unique opportunity to give expression to a minority view
and in no way belies the essential truth that some of them could always be
found to relieve the major magistrates of much of their responsibility in
the field both of jurisdiction and of routine legislation.

Inevitably, of course, some addition to the number of her annual

7 Cf. pp. 340ff (with some differences of view). 3 Livy x.37-11.

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438 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

magistrates was necessary to enable Rome to meet her growing commit-
ments. In 267 the college of quaestors was raised from four to eight.
These officers, whose duties had originally been investigative and in-
quisitorial,3! were used during the Republic to perform a variety of
seemingly unrelated tasks, but prominent among their functions was a
broad responsibility for financial administration, which they appear to
have discharged in such varying capacities as those of city treasurer or of
senior quartermaster attached to a military or provincial command.
There can be little doubt that the doubling of their number in 267 was
closely associated both with the increase in revenue resulting from the
recent extension of the civitas sine suffragio and with Rome’s decision made
two years earlier to face up to her Italian responsibilities by minting her
own silver coinage.

After the First Punic War additions were also made to the college of
praetors. In 242 Rome’s sole praetor was given a colleague — the praetor
peregrinus — who was to have responsibility for the administration of the
law among non-citizens. Fifteen years later, in 227, two more praetors
were added specifically to provide Rome with annual governors for the
newly acquired overseas provinces of Sicily and Sardinia (p. 571). It is
clear that during the third century the Romans still laid considerable
stress upon the status of the praetor as a holder of imperium and as an
unequal colleague of the consuls. The first praetor, or praetor urbanus as
he came to be known, was frequently called upon to assume legionary
command in the early years and was still being occasionally so employed
as late as 232, while praetors were obviously considered to be best
equipped for the new provincial governorships on account of their
capacity for military command. Yet the very need to create the praetor
peregrinus, and the eventual carrying of a Lex Plaetoria of uncertain
date, which, among its other provisions, may well have restricted the
term during which the praetor urbanus might be away from Rome to ten
days,*2 serve to illustrate the increasingly heavy responsibilities which
they were called upon to shoulder as administrators of the law. By the
early second century it came to be seen that the pro-magistracy was a far
more flexible instrument than the praetorship for dealing with the
growing demand for army commanders in that its use both obviated a
proliferation of senior annual magistrates and greatly facilitated a more
appropriate use of available talent.

The effect which Rome’s expansion had upon attendances at her

3! For discussion (and a different viewy see above, p. 195f. For other views on the innovation of
267 B.c. cf. p. $49 with n. 62.

32 The restriction is implied by Cicero, Péi/. 11.51. The Lex Plaetoria is known to have defined the
attendants of the praefor urbanus (Censorinus, DN 24.3), and is likely to have specified his rights and
duties upon the creation of the new office of praetor peregrinus.

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THE CONSTITUTION 439

assemblies was of course profound. In all assemblies the vote which had
once been freely exercised by every citizen became for all practical
purposes the preserve of the few; but in the comitia tributa and concilium
plebis, where the unit of vote was the tribe, the very process of creating
new tribes in which to enrol ever more distant pockets of citizens had
three additional consequences of no small significance. First, it gave to
these bodies a representative aspect by assuring as much weight in the
vote to the few who attended from a remote tribal area as to the many
who, living on the doorstep of the Forum, were registered in one of the
urban tribes; second, it provided the rural community with an inbuilt
majority and so denied any effective voice to those who were domiciled
in Rome and were engaged in urban occupations; and third, it guaran-
teed that for the foreseeable future neither candidates nor legislators
would have the opportunity to promote their cause by making a direct
appeal to voters en masse. These were developments in which Rome’s
rulers for the most part appear readily to have acquiesced. It is true that in
312 B.c. the censor, Appius Claudius, had sought to change the rules
governing tribal registration (p. 395f), perhaps with the intention of
affording greater voting strength to the commercially orientated citizens
of Rome, but he had been very much a political maverick; and, when his
rival, Q. Fabius Rullianus, had undone his work and once more relegated
the city dwellers to the four urban tribes, he had set the seal of official
approval upon the tribal group-vote principle and upon all that it
implied.*3 We cannot know what considerations had most influenced
Rullianus to take this stand in 304. We can, however, be sure that the
nobiles came quickly to recognize as the supreme merit of the tribal group-
vote that it removed the opportunity for demagogy and provided them
with an effective means of subjecting the assemblies to their corporate
control. Because the nature and size of the attendance from the more
remote areas of the ager Romanus was so crucial to the outcome of votes, it
became possible to lay the emphasis in pre-comitial activity not upon the
wooing of the voters, but almost exclusively upon the delivery of a
committed vote. The reduction of the assemblies to such an instrumental
role may ill accord with present-day concepts of democracy: yet it had the
undeniable advantage of reserving serious political debate for a respon-
sible and informed forum while at the same time affording the people a
form of participation in the decision-making process which was mean-
ingful in the very real sense that it guaranteed substantial benefits to
individuals and to the communities they represented from the hands of
the patrons who called upon their votes. That in the absence of more
radical constitutional reform the nobiles were right to cast the assembly in

33 See Staveley 1959[H128], 414ff, 433.

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440 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

this role is indicated both by the long period of political stability which
Rome enjoyed during the middle Republic and by the chaos into which
she speedily plunged when in the post-Gracchan years the rigid applica-
tion of the group-vote principle was successfully undermined by power-
seeking opportunists and would-be demagogues.

The impact of rapid enfranchisement upon Rome’s senior electoral
assembly was less dramatic. One reason for this is that the outcome of
votes in the comitia centuriata had even from earliest times been deter-
mined more by the mobilization of clients than by efforts at direct
persuasion. Another is that the wealthier citizens, who alone had an
effective voice in these assemblies, were somewhat more immune than
others to the cost and time of travel. But until the second half of the third
century the most fundamental distinction between centuriate and tribal
assemblies lay in the fact that the composition of the centuries bore no
necessary relation either to tribe or to place of domicile. The censors
were required to classify citizens according to age and wealth, but to the
best of our knowledge the principle according to which they assigned
citizens from a common age and property group to individual centuries
was arbitrary and discretionary. For this reason the progressive increase
in the number of tribes did not in itself affect the distribution of interest
within the comitia centuriata as it did in the tribal assemblies. It is therefore
of particular interest and significance that in, or soon after, 241 the
Roman government deliberately set out to change this situation by
carrying out a reform of the centuriate assembly of which the principal
constituent was at least the partial co-ordination of the voting centuries
with the tribal system. There is much uncertainty about the precise
structure of the revised assembly, since any reconstruction must be based
largely upon oblique references in Livy and Cicero,* but there is at least a
wide measure of agreement on three of its essentials: first, that the right
of prerogative voting (the right, that is, both to register a vote and to
have a result declared in advance of the voting of the rest of the assembly)
was transferred from the eighteen cavalry centuries (centuriae equitum) to
one of the first-class centuries selected on each occasion by lot; second
that the total number of voting units remained unchanged at 193; and
third, that the complement of centuries in the first property-class was
reduced from eighty to seventy to produce an exact multiple of the
number of tribes, which had been brought up to a final total of thirty-five
by the censors of 241. There are other questions which remain unsolved,
as for example whether the co-ordination of centuries with tribes was
extended to any or all of the other four classes, and in what proportion
the remaining centuries were distributed among them; but fortunately

Livy 1.43.12; Cic. Rep. 11.39.

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THE CONSTITUTION 441

these have little direct bearing on what for the historian are the most
interesting aspects of the reform — its purpose and its effect.

The traditional view that the change was democratically inspired is
now largely discredited. One need point only to the minimal reduction in
the number of centuries assigned to Class I, to the complete absence of
any indication from the fas#i that the reform weakened oligarchic control
of elections, to the failure of any source to report controversy, and to the
obvious difficulties involved in reconciling democratic change with
censorial authorship. Not even the loss by the equites of their prerogative
voting rights implies an attack upon the Establishment; for the enjoy-
ment of a privileged vote by a predetermined aristocratic group, which
suited a situation such as existed in the early Republic when the assembly
was to be used as an instrument of a class, was less suited to an age when
the assembly’s loyalty was no longer a serious consideration and when
the nobles were more free to indulge their personal and factional
rivalries.

It is evident that the principal motive of the reform was closely related
to what is so obviously the essence of the change — the co-ordination of
the more important centuries with the tribes. One well-established view,
expounded first by Rosenberg and developed since with variations by
others,>5 is that the reform mirrored the action of Rullianus relating to
the tribal assemblies and sought by restricting the urban voters to eight
out of seventy centuries in the first class to stifle the influence of an
emergent commercial interest and to assert the dominance of the yeoman
farmer. This interpretation has its attractions; but it implies the existence
of what for so late a date is perhaps too rigid a demarcation between the
interests of the wealthy town and country dwellers, and it fails to account
for the successful promotion of expansionist policies in the years which
followed the reform.

More convincing is the theory that the reform was dictated by a need
on the part of the nobility to exercise more effective control over the very
considerable number of new citizens whose names had been added to the
list. This vital connexion between the reform and enfranchisement was
first recognized by Fraccaro, although his argument was bedevilled by a
preoccupation with the comparative voting influence of old and new
tribes. His suggestion that the object of the reform was to reserve
power for the citizens of the old tribes by ensuring that their voice
prevailed in a majority of centuries obscures the fact that under the
original Servian arrangement the predominant influence of the older
citizens would have been guaranteed, not only by the censor’s tactical use

38 Rosenberg 1911[G703], 80ff. Compare, more recently, Staveley 1953[{G720}, 28ff, Cassola
1962(H103], 99ff. % Fraccaro 1929[G378], 119ff, followed by Taylor 1957[G732), 337ff.

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442 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

of their discretionary powers in constituting the individual centuries, but
also, more particularly, by the much larger attendance at the electoral
vote of those who lived in or near Rome. The possibility that larger
numbers of new citizens living at a distance actually made a habit of
attending the assemblies unsolicited seems remote. Nevertheless, there is
a rather different sense in which under the old order the extensive
enrolment of new citizens on the register could have proved a serious
embarrassment. In essence, the Roman election was a trial of personal
strength: success depended in the last resort upon the ability of an
individual candidate to marshal and deliver the maximum vote. So long
as the electoral roll remained comparatively small, this task of canvassing
support can have presented few problems. After the large-scale extension
of the franchise, however, candidates must have found themselves
confronted with a sizeable, unpredictable element among the potential
voters — an element which, owing to the random composition of the
century lists, could not be systematically or conveniently canvassed.
There is no suggestion that at any time these voters constituted a threat to
the nobility as a whole, or that they even wished to challenge the
nobility’s claim to rule. As with the new citizens after the Social War in 89
B.c., they constituted not a threat, but an imponderable, the very
existence of which struck at the root of what the nobility believed the
electoral contest should truly be. To this problem the reform of the
comitia centuriata provided a convenient solution. By effecting the co-
ordination of the first-class centuries with the tribes it ensured that in
future the zobi/is would have at his disposal in the map of the ager Romanus
tributim discriptus (‘the Roman territory divided by tribe’) an all-impor-
tant key to the composition of the individual voting units. With this as an
aid he would be able to concentrate effort where it was needed and to
contend with his rivals on equal terms by conferring beneficia and
cultivating cliente/ae with predictable effect.

It is very possible that this fundamental change in the structure of the
comitia centuriata was closely associated with another measure of the
period, which had the effect of concentrating the freedman vote for the
first time in the urban tribes.3’ The question of the electoral loyalties of
freedmen has been much debated. It has in the past been commonly held
that they were bound by ties of c/iente/a to their former masters, but this
carries with it the obvious and improbable corollary that any restriction
of the freedman franchise represented an attack upon the control of the
nobility. A more likely case is that many of those who themselves
acquired such wealth as to afford them an effective voice in the centuriate

37 Livy, Per. xx. The measure, like the centuriate reform, was the work of one of the colleges of
censors who held office between 241 and 220.

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NOBILITAS AND SENATE 443

assembly broke free from their bonds of dependence, and that, while
retaining their original tribal registration, they moved their place of
domicile, often to Rome itself. If this was so, then with the co-ordination
of centuries and tribes in the main electoral assembly such men would
have constituted a threat to the efficacy of the group-vote principle, and
it would therefore have been only reasonable for the reformer to legislate
at the same time to restrict their influence.

IV. NOBILITAS AND SENATE

The interpretation of the reform of the centuriate assembly which has
just been given carries with it the implication that the average member of
the Roman electorate regarded his vote as essentially something to be
traded for benefits received, and that in casting it he consequently paid
little heed to the merits either of the candidates or of the policies which
they advocated. There is little reason to dispute this view. There were no
doubt occasions, most probably at times of national crisis, when the
outstanding qualifications of a candidate inspired the voters to an excess
of zeal and resulted in the attendance at the comitia of many upon whom
no call was made, but in the absence of any easy means of mass
communication these occasions must have been few. In effect, therefore,
the outcome of most consular elections, and consequently the course of
Roman foreign and domestic policy, which whether by executive or
legislative initiative the consuls were in a strong position to mould, was
determined not by the electorate itself, but by those in the nobilitas and the
senate who largely controlled both the size of the attendances at the
assemblies and the sense in which the votes were cast. It is the nature and
structure of this governing class, and not that of the electorate, which
thus provides the key to any meaningful examination of Roman politics
in the middle Republic.

There are notable respects in which the new sob:litas that emerged in
the late fourth and third centuries differed from the patriciate which it
succeeded. The patriciate, for one thing, had been a closed caste, perhaps
of artificial creation, a group of influential families whose principal
object had been to arrogate to themselves certain constitutional and
religious privileges and to work for the exclusion from office of all but
their own members. With the oligarchy of the later period the case was
very different. The nobilitas was no closed circle (p. 392), and there is no
evidence that the deliberate introduction of new blood into the ruling
class either by an individual or by a group was regarded as a breach of
faith by the remainder. Again, the unity of the patriciate had been based
to a considerable degree upon class prejudice. Together with the few
non-patrician families which they had been forced at a very early date to

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444 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

accept into the governing circle they had formed a distinct social group:
they had constituted the landed aristocracy of Rome, while their plebeian
opponents had for the most part been drawn from an entirely different
stratum of society — wealthy no doubt, but in riches derived from meaner
trades.38 The sobilitas, by contrast, formed no such social or economic
elite. Admittedly all, as their ability to pursue a political career implies,
possessed a substantial capital, and all, although the wealth of some may
originally have been derived from other sources, were landowners. But
they were not the only large-scale landowners on the ager Romanus, and,
as time passed, they came to represent an ever-diminishing minority.
Despite these differences between the two groups, however, there are
clear signs that this new and enlarged ruling class, composed as it was of
diverse elements from both Rome and Latium, very quickly came to be
regarded by its members as a corporate entity which could command of
them a modicum of loyalty and impose upon them a code of political
conduct. The new families introduced to the consulship throughout the
entire third century numbered only sixteen, and the concerted attitude of
exclusiveness which is suggested by this statistic is attested by a revealing
story which the elder Pliny tells of the aedilician elections of as early as
304 B.C.39 In that year, we are told, the entire nobility-staged an ostenta-
tious display of mourning on learning that two newcomers had defeated
the official candidates — and this even though the families of the Poetelii
and Domitii, to which these official candidates belonged, had themselves
attained consular rank only a generation earlier.

This sense of unity and cohesion which pervaded the new nobilitas was,
of course, dictated in part by a narrow self-interest and by instincts of
self-preservation. Yet it undoubtedly also reflected the bond of a com-
mon responsibility. The succession of long and extensive wars in which
Rome engaged as she advanced from city-state to, first, an Italian, and
then a Mediterranean; power called not only for skill and experience in
her executive magistrates, but also for a certain consistency and stability
in policy-making, for which the Roman system of government by
annually elected magistrates made little provision; and it was for this
reason that a considerable burden of responsibility fell upon the one
body which, although having no legal authority, could claim to enjoy a
certain degree of permanence — the senate. It was membership of this
august council, composed as it was for the most part of ex-curule
magistrates, which was largely instrumental in welding men of different
origin and background into a coherent whole and in causing them to
abide by unwritten rules of conduct. It is true that after the Hannibalic
War the combination of a fast-growing empire and an ill-adapted consti-

38 For discussion cf. above, p. 167f (with a different view). 9% Pliny, HN xxxi.17f.

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NOBILITAS AND SENATE 445

tution conspired to present individual nobiles with opportunities for
personal self-aggrandizement which they found it hard to resist, but
during the third century at least the authority of the senate was by and
large respected by its members, with the result that Rome then enjoyed a
golden age of stable and ordered government.

It has sometimes been suggested that the cohesion of the nobilitas was
threatened throughout the third century, and even beyond, by a continu-
ing conflict between its patrician and plebeian members. This view is
almost certainly misconceived. We read of protests which were raised in
209 B.C. against the appointment of a plebeian, C. Mamilius, to the
religious office of curio maximus; but this is an isolated incident, and we
cannot be sure that such protests, unsuccessful as they were, were
inspired by class prejudice rather than by personal animosity or even by
religious scruple. To infer the existence of a continuing rift from the fact
that a patrician held one consulship annually until as late as 172 B.c. is
even less reasonable. The most likely explanation of the continued
regular appointment of patricians to this office is that it was universally
approved by the entire nobilitas as a matter of policy. In this instance, as in
others, patrician and plebeian senators no doubt agreed to utilize the
prestige and prerogatives of the patriciate in order to facilitate the
attainment of their common ends, for by establishing the principle that
one of the two consuls in every year should be a patrician they notably
diminished the chances of new men who may have aspired to the highest
office. The patrician claim to one consulship was dropped in 172 —
notably without any political conflict — no doubt simply because the
numbers of eligible patricians had by then so declined as to make it
difficult for rival groups to offer a fully qualified and suitable candidate
in every year. It was upheld in 215, when a plebeian suffect was forced to
stand down ‘in order that there should not be two plebeian consuls’, not
on account of patrician intransigence, but simply because the senate
opposed the establishment of a dangerous precedent at a critical period.*!

To lay stress upon the community of interest and responsibility which
characterized the nobility of the third century, however, is not to deny
the existence of real conflict within its ranks. The annual electoral contest
was itself the most obvious manifestation of such conflict, and in recent
times it has become fashionable for scholars to represent at least the inner
circle of the senate as divided into two or more identifiable groups or
factions, whose principal object was to promote the electoral chances of
their members. The nature and raison d’étre of these so-called factions,
even their very existence, are subjects of a continuing debate, and, since

40 Livy xxvi1.8.1.

41 Livy xxu.31.13. Scullard (1973[H127], 58) also accepts collusion, but chooses to interpret this
incident in the context of factional politics.

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446 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

the evidence provided by the annalistic tradition is slight and indecisive,
it must suffice here simply to state where the probabilities may lie.
Miinzer,‘? who pioneered the application of prosopographical study
to republican Rome, maintained that the association of families in
factions was for the most part based both upon long-standing and
inherited ties of friendship, and upon links which were deliberately
forged either through intermarriage or through the extension of political
patronage. He consequently tended to endow the faction with a greater
degree of stability and permanence than many have been prepared to
accept. His most severe critics have challenged his use of evidence, and in
particular his attempts to establish family associations by attaching what
they regard as unwarranted significance to patterns of collegiality, and
even succession, in office as they appear in the magisterial lists.43 But,
justified as some of their strictures may be, the most damaging criticism
that may be levelled against Miinzer and his school is that they failed to
make any allowance for the part played by political outlook in determin-
ing the composition of noble factions. Great as may have been the respect
which Romans held for the obligations imposed by amicitia (‘friendship’)
and gratia (‘favour’), it is scarcely credible that in the context of a consular
election these took precedence over political attitudes, whether dictated
by self-interest or principle, in influencing the level and direction of
effort that was expended in the canvass. And since it is far from being an
invariable rule that statesmen either inherit their political stand from
their fathers or share the outlook of their kinsmen, there must be some
considerable doubt as to whether factions at Rome commonly embraced
entire families or even retained their identity for more than a limited
period. Of course, the long-standing family ties peculiar to Roman
society provided a firm basis for potential co-operation on the political
front, and they may frequently have led to an active co-ordination of
effort in cases where this was not precluded by either political or personal
differences. Yet conversely it must be conceded that a strong community
of interest or conviction must also on occasions have sufficed to induce a
working association among sobiles who were linked by no such ties.
Many of the partnerships into which nobles entered are, therefore, likely
to have been ephemeral. There was little question of a binding commit-
ment or even of a moral obligation to work in harness, and enthusiasm
for pooling electoral effort and resources is likely to have waxed and
waned both with the level of acceptability of the individual candidates
and with the adjudged importance of the issues upon which the outcome
of the election might have bearing. Provided, however, that this is clearly

42 Minzer 1920{H12o].

43 Fora well-balanced critical appraisal of the methods adopted by Miinzer and to some extent by
Scullard 1973{H127], see Cassola 1962[H103], 8ff.

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POLICIES AND PERSONALITIES 447

understood, it may still be meaningful and useful to classify potential
allies as members of a group or faction and even to speculate as to their
identity.

Although the principal raison d’étre of the faction as here defined was
to control policy by influencing the outcome of the major elections, we
should not make the mistake of supposing that in these elections the
comparative strength of rival groups was in itself always a deciding
factor. The faction did not extend beyond the inner circle of the govern-
ing class; yet outside that circle there were many members of the senate
who together must surely have been in a position to deliver a sizeable
vote at the comitia. It was these ‘backbenchers’ in their capacity as
potential harvesters of votes who were the equivalent of the ‘floating
voters’ on the Roman electoral scene. It was their changing political
attitudes, and their electoral zeal or indifference, which perhaps more
than any other factor decided the changing fortunes of the noble factions.
In this sense, therefore, the often changing course of Roman policy was
largely dictated not by individual magistrates, or even by factions, but by
the senatorial majority of the day.

Vv. POLICIES AND PERSONALITIES

In the absence of any continuous annalistic narrative covering the period
291 to 219 B.C. it is difficult, if not impossible, to identify with any
assurance the particular issues which may have divided Rome’s politi-
cians in any given year. Nevertheless, it may with reason be assumed that
throughout this time the senate continued to engage in the wide-ranging
debate over the future political and economic role of Rome which had
characterized its deliberations in the latter part of the fourth century.
From as early as 340 there had been conflict within the nobility over the
advisability of cultivating the Campanian connexion (cf. p. 360); and it is
likely that towards the turn of the century this had come to a head with
the attempt of the censor, Appius Claudius, to effect radical changes in
Rome’s social structure and constitution designed to enable her to play a
more prominent part in the Italian world of commerce. This move, it is
true, had been successfully countered by Q. Fabius Rullianus, who, in
turn, together with his political associates, appears to have pursued a
policy of northward advance which positively discouraged urban expan-
sion and which led to the settlement of large numbers in colonies and on
the Sabine land.*5 But the debate concerning the extent to which Rome
should involve herself in the affairs of the Greek South nevertheless

“ On Appius’ censorship see above, pp. 395ff (with a different interpretation).
45 See Cassola 1962[H103], f54ff.

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448 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

continued. This is revealed by the only two concrete references which we
have to serious senatorial discussion before the Punic wars — the first
relating to the year 279 B.c., when the aged Appius Claudius delivered a
masterly oration to divert the senate from contracting a dishonourable
peace with Pyrrhus (p. 471), the second relating to the year 264 itself,
when the senate allegedly referred a decision on offering assistance to the
Mamertines of Messana to the assembly (p. 542). On both occasions the
senate was evenly divided and clearly open to persuasion, and, whatever
the moral or military considerations which may have had a bearing on its
decisions in each case, it is certain that the chief underlying doubts
among the uncommitted related to the long-term consequences for
Rome of her assumption of a Mediterranean role.

It is important that we should not misunderstand the nature of this
debate or the attitudes which gave rise to it. In recent years there has been
a tendency to treat it as a manifestation of class war, the nobles who
favoured a policy geared to commercial expansion being represented as a
narrow capitalist elite, their opponents as champions of the populus, or,
slightly more plausibly, of the yeoman farmer whose interests were tied
to the maintenance of an essentially agrarian economy. There are
reasons for questioning this assessment. For one thing, the so-called
imperialists among the senators could presumably call for voting pur-
poses upon as broad a base of clients and adherents as their opponents,
and, if we are able to judge by their relative success, the support of such
clients was clearly not undermined significantly by political hostility. For
another, the very assumption that yeomen farmers of the first property
class were opposed to a policy of maritime and commercial expansion has
no basis. The high incidence of what was in all probability speculative
debt in the late fourth century‘’ indicates that there was no lack of
enthusiasm even among the generality of Rome’s wealthier citizens to
invest in new enterprises for a profitable return; and the introduction of a
more sophisticated coinage can only have hastened on the day when,
according to Polybius, the majority took some interest, direct or indirect,
in the lucrative contracts of Empire.*8 Warfare in the richer Mediterra-
nean sphere also had its appeal, holding out the prospect of personal
booty — a deciding factor, we are told, in the assembly’s endorsement of
intervention in Sicily in 264 — and of a gradual easing of taxation, made
possible by the inflow of funds into state coffers. Those in the senate,
therefore, who opposed southward expansion should not be viewed as
the champions of a particular social or economic group. Their motives

“ Compare, for example, Cassola 1962{H103], passinr, De Martino 1972-5[A35], t.2.76ff.

47 Cf. pp. 329ff (with a different interpretation).

48 v1.17.2: Polybius refers in this passage to the situation as it was in the middle of the second
century.

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POLICIES AND PERSONALITIES 449

were more complex. Some may have been influenced by a respect for the
traditional ethos of Roman society, some by an idealistic scorn for
excessive wealth such as is exemplified in anecdotes told of men like
Curius and Fabricius (p. 410); but the majority undoubtedly took the
stand which they did because they deeply feared the long-term effects
which Rome’s projected Mediterranean involvement would have not
only upon the fabric of society but upon the political system of which
they and their fellow nobles formed so integral a part.

A recognition that political divisions within the senate were not based
essentially upon diverse loyalties or economic interests should warn us
against undue schematization in an interpretation of Roman policy-
decisions in the third century. It may indeed be that in the opening decade
the conflict within the nobility had been manifested by an enthusiasm for
either northward or southward expansion; but, if so, the object of those
who advocated a northward thrust in these years had been to counter the
policies of their opponents and not to satisfy the needs either of land-
hungry citizens, if indeed these existed in any numbers, or of the agrarian
community at large. It should not, therefore, be assumed that the
question of Rome’s engagement on her northern borders continued to be
a serious political issue once the absorption of southern Italy into her
sphere of interest became accepted as a fait accompli. Although the
resistance encountered by M’. Curius Dentatus in 290, and perhaps again
later when he advocated the creation of new tribes, may indicate that
there were differences over the method to be employed in extending
Roman influence and control in the region, there is little reason to doubt
that the aggressive stance which was adopted towards Etruria, Umbria,
and Picenum in the immediate aftermath of the Pyrrhic War had the
backing of an all-but-united senate. Indeed, the establishment of diplo-
matic contacts with Egypt in 273 and the introduction of a silver coinage
at Rome in 269%? suggest that those who held sway in these years had in
some measure come to terms with the economic reality of Rome’s new
role.

There is little information on the political leanings of individual
nobles in the period immediately prior to the First Punic War. Even the
knowledge that particular magistrates were involved in specific courses
of action yields few sure clues, since consuls were frequently bound to
pursue policies set in motion by their predecessors and to campaign
vigorously in wars of which they may not have approved. Little purpose
can therefore be served by an attempt to reconstruct the composition of
senatorial groups on the strength of inadequate evidence. The only
explicit reference to a form of political alliance in these years comes from

49 See above, pp. 414ff, for the beginnings of Roman coinage.

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450° 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

Cicero, who singles out a group of five amici, M’. Curius, C. Fabricius, Ti.
Coruncanius, P. Decius Mus, and Q. Aemilius Papus.*° The first three of
these were novi homines (‘new men’: p. 392), two of them from Tusculum,
which may indicate that there were those in the established governing
class —- among them Aemilius Papus — who had been spurred to support
their advancement by a desire to broaden the group of families who
shared their political outlook. The indications are that this group fa-
voured the conservative approach. The association of P. Decius Mus
with Rullianus, for example, extended over several terms of office:
Curius came into conflict with Appius Claudius Caecus*! and was largely
responsible for the annexation of the ager Sabinus: and Fabricius, for all
his vigorous campaigning, came to be regarded by Pyrrhus as the man
most likely to influence the senate in favour of a compromise settle-
ment.52 Another name could reasonably be added to this list, that of M.
Fulvius Flaccus, who collaborated with Curius on the Anio aqueduct
project, who was appointed magister equitum by one of Cicero’s five, Ti.
Coruncanius, when he held the dictatorship to hold the elections in 258,
and who as tribune in 270 opposed the move to woo the favour of
Rome’s new Greek allies by sacrificing the Campanian mercenaries of
Rhegium (p. 5 39f).53 He too was of Tusculan stock — which prompts the
speculation that the Latin elements in the nobility may have brought
with them a deep distrust of Rome’s South-Italian connexion, which had
so soured Romano-Latin relations at the time of the Latin War. In the
opposing camp also we can identify only the odd individual with any
degree of confidence. The aged Appius Caecus, of course, holds pride of
place; and with him should no doubt be coupled his two kinsmen,
Appius and Gaius Claudius, who as consul and military tribune in 264
exerted what influence they could to draw Rome into conflict with
Carthage. Other possible associates are the C. Aelius who as tribune in
2285 was responsible for Rome’s first intervention in Thurii,*4 and P.
Cornelius Rufinus, who is reported to have been assisted by friends
within in capturing the Greek city of Croton in 27755 and who was later
expelled from the senate by Fabricius and Aemilius Papus for possessing
an excess of silver vessels.

It must be assumed that during the twenty-four years of the First Punic
War there was some abatement of political controversy at Rome. Cer-
tainly a recent suggestion that the composition of rival factions can be

* Cic. Sen. 43; Amie. 39. 51 Cic. Brut. 55; [Aur. Vict.] De Vir. Hl. 34.3.

52 Zonar. vi1.4.

33 Val. Max. 1.7.15. Cassola (1962[H103], 171ff) argues with some force that the Campanian
mercenaries had earlier been encouraged to massacre the anti-Roman elements at Rhegium by C.
Fabricius. 34 Pliny, HN xxxiv.22.

55 Zonar. vill.6: xat éxt Kpérwva oppnoev droardyra ‘Pwpaiwy perarempapevwr abrov trav
émrnbeiav. Below, p. 480.

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POLICIES AND PERSONALITIES 451

reconstructed by examining the role which successive generals played in
the conduct of the war is totally unconvincing.** With the coming of
peace, however, the old divisions reasserted themselves. The emphasis in
political debate was naturally somewhat modified, for the defeat of
Carthage, bringing in its train the permanent annexation of Sicily, had
established Rome as a Mediterranean power. But the basis of dissent
remained largely unchanged. There were those who looked to capitalize
on the humiliation of her enemy by maintaining Rome’s naval power,
strengthening contacts with trading centres such as Massalia, and totally
usurping Carthage’s one-time maritime ascendancy in the west. There
was also a powerful group who viewed the pursuit of such a course with
grave misgivings and for whom a policy of aggressive expansionism
threatened to put at stake much that they deemed of greater value — the
prosperity of Italian agriculture; the survival of traditional Roman
values; even the oligarchy itself, which depended in the last resort upon
the ability of the senate to exercise effective control not only over the
electorate but also over its own members. In the early second century,
when Rome was already being swept along irresistibly by the tide of
imperialism, it fell to the elder Cato and to a comparatively small band of
sympathizers to voice these conservative sentiments. But before the war
with Hannibal the advocates of containment had a more powerful voice.
They may have lost the argument, but there are indications of a continu-
ing and lively debate within the senate. There was a clear difference of
view about the terms of the peace treaty in 241, which were eventually
amended to the detriment of Carthage (p. 565). There was vacillation as
to the appropriate action to be taken in Sardinia, where an original policy
of strict neutrality at the time of the Mercenary War gave way in 238 to
one of opportunist aggression. And in 219 onthe eve of the Second Punic
War there took place, according to Dio,‘’ a notable senatorial debate on
what should be the proper response to Hannibal’s attack upon
Saguntum. For the rest, much of the evidence for political controversy
during the interwar years centres around the personality and activities of
the novus homo, C. Flaminius; and we should, therefore, consider how, if at
all, this related to the basic argument of the day on the appropriate course
of foreign policy.

Flaminius has been commonly represented either as a man of the
people or as the champion of the small proprietors. The former view,
which rests essentially upon Polybius’ description of the man as a
thorough mob-orator and demagogue,°8 is effectively belied by the fact

56 Compare Lippold 1963[H117], 104ff.

57 Dio xru fr. 55, vol. 1, pp. 194-7 Boiss. Cf. Zonar. viit.22.

58 Polyb. 111.80.3 (dyAoxdmov yév wai Sypaywysv réAccov). Compare also Livy xx1.63.3—4;
XXIL.1.5.

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452 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

that his stormy tribunate was followed by election to the highest offices
of state. The latter is based upon a fundamental misinterpretation of two
of his public acts. One of these — his promulgation of a bill in 232 B.c.
providing for the viritim distribution of the ager Gallicus — has already
been discussed (p. 432). It bears sufficient resemblance to the provisions
of M’. Curius for the division of the Sabine territory two generations
earlier to invite the suggestion that it was inspired by a similar motive;
but, except for the detail that both men offended the proprieties of their
age by calling for the settlement of citizens on lands unduly distant from
the political centre, the analogy is far from apt. As we have seen, a
preoccupation with the north of the peninsula had long since ceased to be
the monopoly of those who were opposed to commercial interests; and
the motives of Flaminius on this occasion were almost certainly military.
His other act said to be indicative of an anti-commercialist stance was his
alleged solitary support for the Claudian plebiscite of 218 B.c., a measure
which provided that no senator or father of a senator should possess a
ship with a capacity of more than 300 amphorae. But any suggestion that
such a restriction could stay the development of Rome’s maritime
activities or effectively deprive the more imperialistic of senators of an
incentive to further their policies is facile. Introduced as it was on the eve
of the Hannibalic War, this measure is best understood as designed to
ensure that the senators upon whose counsels in war the fate of the
Republic rested would devote their time to public affairs. That a majority
of the senate should have opposed it can be explained simply by their
natural resentment at a legalized interference with their freedom, but that
Flaminius gave it his support need mean no more than that he was intent
on forestalling the more serious constitutional consequences of eco-
nomic policies to which he gave his full approval.

A surer clue to Flaminius’ political stance is provided by the several
indications that he was a bitter opponent of Q. Fabius Maximus, the
great-grandson of Rullianus, who voiced the arguments of appeasement
in the debate of 219. Fabius is mentioned by Cicero as the consul who
strongly opposed the Flaminian bill for the distribution of the ager
Gallicus;59 it was very probably Fabius who as the dominating voice in
the augural college was primarily responsible for the efforts which were
exerted to secure Flaminius’ abdication during his first consulship and
subsequently to deny him a triumph; and it is almost certainly Fabius’
kinsman and probable associate, the historian Q. Fabius Pictor, who
should be held responsible for the hostility shown to Flaminius in the
surviving tradition. Furthermore, Flaminius’ own known associations

59 Cie. Sen. 11; Acad. Pr. 1.13. The clash almost certainly belongs to Fabius’ first consulship (233
B.c.), with which the tribunate of Flaminius overlapped.

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POLICIES AND PERSONALITIES 453

within the governing class tend to confirm that the two men belonged to
opposing political camps. Among other allies we should mention Fabius’
arch-opponent of 217 8.c., M. Minucius, who appointed Flaminius his
magister equitum in 220, and L. Cornelius Lentulus, the protagonist of
war in the debate of 219, who can only have owed his appointment as
princeps senatus (‘leader of the senate’) in preferment to the oldest living
ex-censor, M. Fabius Buteo, to the good offices of the censors of 220, of
whom Flaminius was one. In the light of these indications the northern
policy of Flaminius should be seen as one which accorded with the
designs of the expansionist group within the senate. The plan to consoli-
date further the frontiers of Italy by driving the Gauls back into the
Alpine foothills and taking possession of the Po valley was viewed as a
necessary preliminary to a major confrontation with Hannibal, which it
was no doubt hoped and expected would take place not on Italian soil but
in Spain.°!

Perhaps because political controversy in these years centred on one
overriding issue — that of war or peace, aggression or retrenchment — it
becomes possible not only to detect the periodic swings of senatorial
opinfon, but even at times to relate these swings to the electoral fortunes
of identifiable groups. After the peace a hardening of attitudes is first”
evident in 238. In that year Rome went on to the offensive with the
occupation of Sardinia and the commencement of operations against the
Ligurians and Gauls, and but two years later she turned her attention to
Corsica and, as we are told, even contemplated a renewed assault on
Carthage in defence of her merchant shipping. Significantly, the two
patrician consuls of 237 and 236 were the later princeps senatus, Lucius
Cornelius Lentulus, and his brother, Publius.

The year 235 by contrast saw a reversion to a more pacific stance.
There was notably no follow-up to the rout of the Gauls after the raid on
Ariminum, and, as if to make a political point, the consuls took the
unusual course of ceremoniously closing the doors of Janus.®? For three
years, in the last of which Q. Fabius Maximus held his first consulship,
Rome engaged in no warfare save that which was forced upon her by the
actions of insurgents. It was perhaps because Carthage was widely
believed to have been responsible for instigating revolt in the offshore
islands and in Liguria at this time that the ‘hawks’, as it appears, regained

© The tradition found in Plutarch (Marc. 5.5) which has M. Minucius as dictator in 220 B.C. is
convincingly defended by Dorey (195 5[H108], 92ff). Valerius Maximus, who represents Flaminius
as the magister equitum of Fabius (1.1.5), was almost certainly confused by the fact that Fabius was
appointed dictator in the same year and was immediately declared vitio creatus (‘faultily appointed’).

61 For an exposition of a similar view see Kramer 1948[J188], 1ff.

6 In the consulship of T. Manlius Torquatus (Livy 1.19.3; Varro, Ling. v.165); but Livy adds
‘after the end of the First Punic War’ and many scholars assume a confusion with A. Manlius
Torquatus (cos. 241) and put the closing of the temple in that year (see above, p. 383).

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454 9. ROME AND ITALY IN THE EARLY THIRD CENTURY

the initiative in the years 232~—230. In 232 was carried the Flaminian bill,
which in principle, if not in detail, can only have been inspired by senior
members of the nobility. Then in the following year came the investiga-
tory embassy to Hamilcar in Spain, which may well have led to the
contraction of an agreement between Rome and the township of
Saguntum.® Whether those responsible for this treaty actually intended
that it should at some future date provide the pretext for renewed
hostilities with Carthage is unclear: but the move was undoubtedly
provocative. Finally in 230the long-overdue protest was sent to Teuta of
Illyria, warning her to desist from piratical attacks on Italian shipping.
There can be little question that all three steps were inspired by a similar
political outlook. They reflect a determination to incur, even to provoke,
war rather than sacrifice any one of Rome’s rapidly expanding interests.
Furthermore, they were all taken in a period of years when the consulship
was dominated by what scholars have tended to identify as an emerging
group which centred at this time around leading families of the Aemilian
and Cornelian gentes and was to centre in the next generation around the
Scipios. Certainly, two of the six consuls were Aemilii, and two others, C.
Papirius Maso and the new man M. Pomponius Matho, belonged to
families which were soon to forge marriage alliances with both the
Scipios and the Aemilii Pauli.

The first half of the next decade saw little activity except for the
Illyrian campaign, to which the senate was already committed and on
which again there was no attempt to capitalize. Q. Fabius Maximus held
his second consulship in this period (228 B.c.) and may have exercised a
weighty influence, particularly if, as is very possible, he had enhanced his
reputation by carrying through the centuriate reform as censor in 230.6
It is even possible that the Ebro treaty, which was contracted with
Hasdrubal in 226 and which appeared superficially to conflict with
Rome’s obligations under the Saguntine alliance, reflects the viewpoint
of those like Fabius who were genuinely prepared to compromise. From
the time of the Gallic attack in 225, however, senatorial attitudes
discernibly hardened once more, and Rome was carried forward on an
offensive tide which brought successively in its wake the subjection of

63 Dio fr. 48, vol. 1, p. 178-9 Boiss.

64 The daughter of C. Papirius Maso married the son of L. Aemilius Paulus (Plut. Aew. 5.1).
Scipio’s mother was a Pomponia (Sil. Pus. x11.615f), and his wife an Aemilia Paula (Livy
XXXVIIL.§ 7.6).

65 So Vitucci 1953[B270], 54ff, who sought to identify Q. Fabius Maximus with the Fabius
honoured in a fragment of an e/ogivm found at Brundisium. The incomplete sentence ‘primus
senatum legit et comiti . . .” (‘he was the first to revise the membership of the senate and .. .
assembly(?)’) certainly refers to censorial activity, but some doubts exist over the identification of the
Fabius concerned, over Vitucci’s restoration of the words comitila ordinavif] (‘he regulated the
assembly’), and over his claim that they refer to the reorganization of the centuriate system at Rome
(cf. Taylor 195 7(G732], 352f).

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POLICIES AND PERSONALITIES 455

Transpadane Gaul, the Istrian War, the second intervention in Illyria,
and eventually the fateful declaration of war against Carthage. It has been
claimed that the so-called Aemilio—Cornelian group largely dominated
the elections in these seven years. This may indeed be so; but, if such an
alliance existed, a glance at the lists of magistrates is enough to establish
that the dominant political figure of the group was Flaminius, twice
consul and once censor in the short space of six years. Like Cato in the
next generation, Flaminius was clearly a novus homo whose exceptional
talents and strength of personality enabled him to establish himself as a
leader even among those members of the older nobility who had been
instrumental in promoting his political advancement. Unlike Cato,
however, it was his misfortune to be killed in his prime and so to have his
name and reputation fall defenceless victims to the vilification of his
opponents. It is indeed ironical that it was not he, but Q. Fabius
Maximus, his chief rival and the apostle of appeasement, who survived to
win enduring fame as an architect of the victory over Carthage which was
to set Rome beyond recall upon the road to empire.

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CHAPTER 10

PYRRHUS!

P. R. FRANKE

I. THE CONFLICT BETWEEN ROME AND TARENTUM

There was a treaty between Rome and the South Italian Greek city of
Tarentum, certainly from 303-302 B.c., perhaps even as early as 332/1,
which prohibited the Romans from sailing northwards beyond the
Lacinian Promontory (south of Croton) and penetrating the Gulf of
Tarentum (Map 1o).? But a squadron of ten Roman ships nevertheless
did make a surprise appearance in the harbour of Tarentum, probably in
the autumn of 282 — the first time, incidentally, that mention is made of
Roman warships in ancient times. Only shortly before the consul C.
Fabricius Luscinus had liberated the city of Thurii froma Lucanian siege.
The Lucanians, along with the Bruttii, were increasingly terrorizing the
Greek settlements in southern Italy. The consul left a garrison behind to
protect the city and its oligarchic government which was loyal to Rome.
The Tarentines therefore had good reason to fear that this would
severely weaken their own position in relation to Thurii, their constant
rival in reputation and power. No one in the city believed for one
moment that the Roman ships were only making a sightseeing tour of
Magna Graecia on their way to visit Thurii or, perhaps, the three Roman
colonies of Sena Gallica, Hadria and Castrum Novum which had been
founded on the upper Adriatic coast after the Third Samnite War. On the
contrary, they feared a political purpose behind the visit on the part of the
new rising power in Latium whom they had been watching with suspi-
cion for some time and who, they imagined, had come to overthrow the
demos (the mass of the people) in Tarentum in order to reinstate the

1 Sources: the Hypomnemata (‘Memoirs’) of the king and his treatise on Tactics have been lost, as
has also the work by Cineas mentioned by Cic. Fam. 1x.25.1. Only fragments of the Epefrotika by the
historian Proxenus, who was a member of Pyrrhus’ court, survive, as also of Timaeus’ history of the
Western Greek world and of the work of Duris of Samos, who was hostile to Macedonian rule. But
these works, and also the history of the Diadochi by Hieronymus of Cardia, were all used to some
extent by Plutarch for his Life of Pyrrbus — our main source alongside scattered notes in Diodorus
(Books xx1—xx1), Pompeius Trogus-Justinus (Books xvi—xvu, xx11I-xxv), Pausanias, Livy,
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Appian and others. In addition, there are a few inscriptions and the
extensive coinage of Pyrrhus himself and of the South Italian Greek cities and Rome.

2 Schmitt 1969[J224], 60 n. 444.

456

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ROME AND TARENTUM 457

aristocrats who were sympathetic towards Rome, just as they had done in
Thurii. The friendly relations Rome enjoyed with Naples (which had
signed a foedus aequo iure —a contract making the two cities equal partners
with equal rights} — with Rome as early as 326, the first of the Greek
communities to do so), as well as with other Greek cities including
Massalia, also gave grounds to fear the decline of Tarentum’s traditional
predominance in South Italy. This fear grew all the stronger when, in
about 306/5 B.c., the first signs of an economic, and soon also a political,
relationship between Rome and the island of Rhodes‘ made it clear that
Rome was beginning to think beyond the narrow confines of Central
Italy and show an interest in the Greek world to the east as well. In
addition to this, the city on the Tiber had succeeded in 306 in reaching a
new, third agreement with Carthage, marking out the boundaries of each
other’s spheres of influence and reflecting the new conditions of power
in Italy. Though this barred Rome from Graeco-Punic Sicily, it also
closed the whole of the Italian peninsula to the Carthaginians.5 The
Greek settlements on the other hand must have felt this to be at least an
indirect threat to themselves.

Spurred on by the demagogue Philocharis, an incensed mob therefore
fell on the Roman ships, which had clearly contravened the existing
treaty. They sank four and seized a fifth, whilst the rest managed to
escape by the skin of their teeth. The Tarentine army then marched to
Thurii and forced the ruling aristocracy, who sympathized with Rome,
as wellas the Roman garrison, to withdraw from the city. For Rome, this
brusque action meant not only a severe loss of prestige; it was also a
serious blow to her efforts to establish greater influence in South Italy. A
Roman embassy therefore arrived in Tarentum at the end of 282 or early
the following year demanding satisfaction. But it left again empty-
handed and, if the pro-Roman annalistic tradition is not exaggerating
here as in so many other places,‘ the victim of heavy insults. As a result a
Roman army under the command of the consul L. Aemilius Barbula
invaded Tarentine territory and soon reduced the city to an extremely
precarious position. The people’s assembly, no longer trusting in their
own strength and leadership, and in defiance of the vehement opposition
of the aristocrats, decided, as so often in the past, to ask the help of a
foreign commander. In 343-338 it had been Archidamus of Sparta. In
334 the Molossian King Alexander I of Epirus came in the hope of

3 Schmitt 1969[J224}, 22 n. 410; above, p. 369.

Cf. Polyb. xxx.5.6: in 167 the Rhodians had ‘shared in the most glorious and finest achievements
of the Romans for nearly 140 years’. This assertion has given rise to much controversy. For
discussion see Schmitt 1957[J223], 1~49 and, briefly, Walbank 1957-79[B182], 111.4236.

5 Schmitt 1969[J224}, 53 n. 438; cf. below, p. 532f.

6 App. Sam. 7.16; Zonar. vitt.2.1-2.

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458 10. PYRRHUS

carving out an empire for himself in battle with the Lucanians and
Bruttians, and paid with his life in 3 31. In 303 the Spartans responded toa
further appeal from Tarentum by sending Acrotatus’ brother Cleonymus
to South Italy, where he took and briefly held Metapontum; but while he
was absent in Corcyra, the Tarentines turned against him and his attempt
to recover their city in a night attack failed dismally. Eventually the
Romans drove him from the area and he was reduced to pursuing an
unsuccessful career of brigandage in the northern Adriatic. King
Agathocles of Syracuse too had repeatedly intervened in South Italy
between 298 and 295 at the instigation of Tarentum, and fought against
the Bruttians and the Iapygians, who had been threatening the Greeks.
His death robbed the Greeks of a strong protector and left behind a
power-vacuum which Rome thought to fill.

It was not mere chance that the choice this time fell on King Pyrrhus of
Epirus, on the other side of the Adriatic. Not long before, in 282/1,
Tarentum had placed a number of ships at the Molossian king’s disposal
for the purpose of winning back the island of Corcyra, which he had
received in 295 as dowry from his second wife Lanassa, daughter of
Agathocles, but had lost again in 290 to Demetrius Poliorcetes when
Lanassa left him and married Demetrius. Pyrrhus was therefore under an
obligation towards Tarentum. There were also various trade connexions
between Epirus, South Italy and Sicily, reflecting the fact that groups of
Thesprotian and Chaonian peoples from Epirus had earlier settled there.
Records that Tarentines had consulted the oracle at Dodona around the
turn of the fourth to the third century’ and inscriptions on a number of
votive offerings in this chief sanctuary of the Epirotes show that the links
must in fact have been fairly intensive. Furthermore, Pyrrhus was
considered an outstanding commander and tactician, who never shrank
from personal danger and who inspired enthusiastic obedience in his
soldiers. The memory of the powerful personality of Alexander the
Molossian, brother-in-law to Alexander the Great and Pyrrhus’ uncle
and predecessor on the Molossian throne, was also undoubtedly still
vivid at Tarentum.

II. PYRRHUS AS KING OF THE MOLOSSIANS; HIS POLICY IN
GREECE TO 281 B.C.°?

There were of course other reasons for Pyrrhus’ willingness to answer
the Tarentine plea for help. Pyrrhus was born in 319, the son of the

7 SGDI 1567; ef. also the mpo€evia granted by the Molossians to the people of Acragas around 300
(SIG 942). 8 Franke 1961(Bz20], 276f.

9 For the wider Hellenistic background and personalities concerned here see also E. Willin CAH
vu.1 (Cambridge,? 1984), Chaps. 2 and 4.

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PYRRHUS AND GREECE 459

Molossian king Aiacides who, in 317, was deposed and banished by
popular decree. Pyrrhus therefore spent his youth as a refugee at the
court of the Illyrian king Glaucias. In 306 the latter restored Pyrrhus by
force to the Molossian throne under the kind of regency government
which was customary in Epirus and Macedonia. But only a few years
later, in 302, Pyrrhus was once again ousted, this time by Cassander of
Macedonia. He was forced to leave the country and went to serve as an
officer in the army of his brother-in-law Demetrius Poliorcetes (son of
Antigonus the One-eyed), who had married Pyrrhus’ sister Deidameia.
In 298, as a sequel to a short-lived peace between Demetrius and
Seleucus, the latter as go-between arranged a peace settlement between
Demetrius and Ptolemy I and in connexion with this Pyrrhus went to the
Alexandrian court as a hostage. Here he won the favour of Berenice,
Ptolemy’s mistress and later his queen, and he married Antigone, her
daughter by her first marriage to an otherwise unknown Macedonian
noble. Only a year later, in 297, following the death of Cassander,
Pyrrhus returned to his homeland with considerable military and finan-
cial support from Ptolemy I. At first he ruled together with Neoptolemus
II, his relative and a protégé of Cassander, but very soon had hiin
murdered.

As king of the Molossians — he never styled himself king of the
Epirotes and certainly never king of Epirus, a title found especially in the
Roman tradition — Pyrrhus was at the same time the begemon of the
Epirote League which was founded around 325/20 and describes itself as
the 2 YMMAXOI TQN AIIEIPQTAN (‘the Epirote allies’) on inscrip-
tions.!0 The League united the three main peoples of Epirus (Map 9) — the
Molossians, the Thesprotians and the Chaonians, who were evidently the
last to join; each of these in turn consisted of numerous sub-groups. The
constitution set the powers of the Molossian king within relatively
narrow confines, both as far as his own people were concerned and also as
regards the Epirote League. The minting of coinage, the conferment of
mpo€evia (public guest-friendship), of citizenship and of freedom from
taxation, the granting of the right to asylum and other privileges lay
exclusively in the hands of the xowvdév (commonalty) of the Molossians, at
the head of which was the mpoordrys, roughly comparable in function
and standing to the ephors of Sparta. Likewise it was the ouppayia
(alliance) of the Epirotes and not the king, its nominal head and general,
which possessed both the right to mint coinage and also the right to grant
freedom from customs duties, as is apparent from inscriptions. First and
foremost the Molossian king was through long tradition head of the
army in time of war, but to declare war he needed the consent of the

10 SGDI 1336.

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8007 ‘sserg Aisr9aTUA aSspuquiey EG sUTTUGC saToIsIPY eSsprquiey

ssmyzudg JO DUNN ayy UI dda9NF) WYER 6 dey,

PYRRHUS AND GREECE AGI

military assembly. He also acted as high priest and supreme judge, except
in cases of capital offences, which were judged by the military assembly.
But the king was entitled to conclude foreign treaties and to recruit
mercenaries in his own name. In his Life of Pyrrhus (5.5), Plutarch records
that it was the custom for the Molossian king to swear an annual oath at
the temple of Zeus at Passaron — not far from modern Jannina — that he
would govern according to the constitution. The Molossian people then
swore in their turn to support and protect his kingship as laid down by
the constitution. There is evidence that on several occasions rulers who
violated these laws were expelled or deposed.

For a man like Pyrrhus, who yielded nothing to the other Diadochi or
Alexander the Great in his ambitions, energy and desire for glory, this
was a very limited and limiting field in which to develop his personality.
Thus Pyrrhus soon began to thrust his way beyond the narrow borders
of Epirus. After occupying Corcyra (and possibly Leucas?), which he had
acquired in 295 through his marriage to Lanassa, daughter of
Agathocles, he then in the following year gave support and help to
Alexander V, the son of his former enemy Cassander, in his attempt to
gain the Macedonian throne. In 294, as the price of his help, Pyrrhus was
given the region of Ambracia in southern Epirus, Acarnania,
Amphilochia and the regions of Tymphaea and Parauaea in the border
country between Epirus and Macedonia. In this connexion a special
agreement embodied in a treaty appears to have been made between him
and the Acarnanian League.'! With these extensive land acquisitions
Pyrrhus had begun to build up the foundations of a personal power-base
in the form of a Hellenistic personal monarchy, and this found an
appropriate focal point when he built himself a residence in Ambracia —
outside his own native territory. Polygamy being the typical marriage
form for the Diadochi, Pyrrhus married, in 292, for the third and fourth
time, in quick succession and for purely political ends, first the daughter
of the Illyrian prince Bardylis and then a daughter of King Audoleon of
the Paeonians. In this way he could safely turn his back on the northern
boundaries of Epirus whilst also gaining important allies for his further
plans, which were now directed towards winning for himself the throne
of Macedonia. Not unnaturally, Lanassa felt herself slighted and left
Pyrrhus to marry his keenest rival Demetrius Poliorcetes, to whom she
also gave Corcyra as her dowry. After years of strife, Pyrrhus won a
victory, through his own personal courage, over Demetrius’ general
Pantauchus in 289. Disregarding the peace treaty which was sub-
sequently signed, and cleverly emphasizing his relationship with
Alexander the Great, whose mother Olympias did indeed come from the

"Schmitt 1969[J224], 94 9. 459.

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462 10. PYRRHUS

ruling house of the Molossians, Pyrrhus succeeded in 287 in persuading
the Macedonian army to proclaim him king of Macedonia. In this
capacity he shortly afterwards paid a visit to Athens and offered a
sacrifice to Athena.

But he could not hold out for long against Lysimachus, a former
bodyguard of Alexander the Great now based in Thrace, whose army
was far superior and who was equally interested in the throne of
Macedonia and the role of successor to Alexander. By the year 284
Pyrrhus had already had to retreat again to Epirus, and he now tried to
extend his kingdom northwards towards Illyria. By 282/1 he had won
Corcyra back again, subjugated some of the neighbouring tribes on the
borders of northern Epirus and Illyria and probably also gained control
of Apollonia, the colony founded by Corcyra on the Adriatic coast in 588
B.c.!2 After the death of Lysimachus in the spring of 281 and that of
Seleucus I in the late summer of the same year, Pyrrhus saw another good
opportunity to assert his claims to Macedonia and took up arms against
the new king Ptolemy Ceraunus, who was as yet by no means firmly
established on the throne. But before any serious fighting began the
Tarentine embassy (p. 457) reached Pyrrhus. The prospect of gaining
new power and glory in the Western Greek world and — if we can believe
the account in Plutarch (Pyrrh. 14.8ff) which was presumably derived
from Pyrrhus’ court historian Proxenus — the further possibility of being
able to conquer Sicily and perhaps even to invade North Africa and
Carthage, like his father-in-law Agathocles, all seemed so enticing to the
Molossian king that he speedily concluded a treaty with Ptolemy
Ceraunus. This placed Ceraunus under an obligation to put troops at
Pyrrhus’ disposal in support of the planned campaign in Italy, whilst
Pyrrhus in his turn renounced his claims to the Macedonian throne. Now
there was nothing to prevent him going westwards, and for the first time
in her history Rome saw herself face to face with one of the Hellenistic
powers.

III. PYRRHUS IN TARENTUM. THE BATTLE OF
HERACLEA 280 B.C.

The consul Aemilius Barbula’s rigorous action against Tarentum re-
sulted first of all in the choice of a new general, by the name of Agis,
whose good connexions with Rome, it was hoped, would bring about a
peaceful end to the conflict. But shortly afterwards two of Pyrrhus’
advance divisions anchored in the city’s harbour in quick succession.
The first 3,000-strong division was commanded by Pyrrhus’ closest

'2 App. Il. 7.

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PYRRHUS IN TARENTUM 463

confidant and adviser, Cineas the Thessalian, whilst the second was led
by the general Milo. Any further attempt to reach an amicable settlement
with Rome was immediately halted and Agis was replaced by a man
acceptable to the king. But Pyrrhus’ negotiations in Macedonia and the
military preparations for his expedition across the Adriatic dragged on
and the new magistrate in Tarentum renewed the appeal to the king for
help, supported by the Samnites, Lucanians and Messapians, who like-
wise felt threatened by Rome. Their doubtless wildly exaggerated prom-
ise to provide Pyrrhus with over 350,000 soldiers and at least 20,000
horsemen resulted in official endorsement of the Italian campaign by the
authorities in the Epirote League and the levying of a federal army. This
was only possible once the king had laid his plans and objectives before
the assembly of the League. As already mentioned, Pyrrhus was certainly
as outstanding a strategist as he was a tactician in the military field. He
was impetuous and daring in battle, but he was equally an immensely
prudent, skilful and — if it should prove necessary — also unscrupulous
politician. By proclaiming his undertaking to be a kind of panhellenic
campaign to free all Greeks in southern Italy once and for all from the
perpetual threat of the barbarian world, he succeeded first and foremost
in securing the essential participation of the troops of the Epirote
League, which were to form the core and backbone of what was
otherwise a pretty motley army. Over and above this he succeeded in
winning the support of the other Hellenistic states, whose rulers were no
doubt only too glad to see this restless and dangerous man seek an arena
for his activities elsewhere. Thus he received Macedonian auxiliary
troops and twenty Indian war elephants from Ptolemy Ceraunus. An-
tigonus Gonatas put at his disposal the ships which were indispensable
for the sea crossing and the securing of reinforcements. Antiochus I of
Syria sent money; and a series of gold coins later minted in Syracuse and
bearing the portrait of Berenice as Artemis suggests that in all probability
he also received money from Ptolemy I of Egypt. In his cleverly thought-
out propaganda campaigns in Greece, southern Italy and later in Sicily,
Pyrrhus deftly referred to his descent from Achilles and from Alexander
the Great. He took the stage as their heir and equally as avenger of the
death of his uncle Alexander the Molossian who had been murdered in
southern Italy. The coins minted under Pyrrhus in Tarentum, Locri and
Syracuse at the time of his campaigns make this particularly clear. On all
the tetradrachms, which, on the evidence of die-links, were all issued
from a single mint, probably at Locri, we find the picture of Zeus of
Dodona and his consort Dione (Fig. 5 3b), the two main Epirote gods,
who were also worshipped on the other side of the Adriatic. On other
denominations appear the figure of Athena Promachos as champion
against the barbarians, the head of Athena and a Nike bearing a trophy,

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PYRRHUS IN TARENTUM 465

Fig 53a . Didrachm with head of Achilles on obverse, Thetis with legend BAZIAEQS
M1 YPPOY (‘of King Pyrrhus’) on reverse.

Fig. 53b. Tetradrachm with head of Zeus of Dodona on obverse, Dione with same legend on
reverse.

clearly in imitation of the gold staters of Alexander the Great, which
were in circulation everywhere at this time. The head of Heracles in the
lion’s skin is similarly a deliberate link with both the great Macedonian
king and also the most famous of the Greek heroes — both likewise
symbols of the fight against the barbarians. Later Pyrrhus was to hold a
great display of festive games in honour of his ancestor Heracles on
Mount Eryx in Sicily. On the obverse of the didrachms there is a
representation of his ancestor Achilles (Fig. 53a), possibly bearing the
features of Pyrrhus himself — like silver coins of Alexander the Great
which portray him as Heracles. Because of the constitutional restrictions
on his rule in Epirus there were no coins with an official head of Pyrrhus,
as was customary among all the other Hellenistic rulers of the time. On
the reverse of these didrachms there is a figure of Thetis who, as in the
Iliad, is depicted taking a costly shield and other new weapons across the
sea to her son Achilles, fighting outside Troy. For his contemporaries
this meant that just as the great Achilles conquered the Trojans, so like-
wise, with the aid of the gods, the Aeacid Pyrrhus, his descendant, would
fight and conquer the barbarian Romans, who were the descendants of
the Trojans. Other coins show figures such as Artemis, Demeter and
Persephone, others again Phthia, who could signify either the king’s
mother or a personification of the Thessalian countryside, the homeland
of Achilles. Taken as a whole these coins conjure up an impression of

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466 10. PYRRHUS

South Italy or Sicily, without surrendering their general Greek
character.

The army with which Pyrrhus left Epirus in the spring of 280 — after
consulting the oracle of Zeus at Dodona and receiving a favourable
response — consisted of 22,500 foot soldiers, including 2000 archers and
soo armed with slings, 3000 cavalry and 20 war elephants. At its core was
the combined Molossian, Thesprotian and Chaonian levy, reinforced
with mercenaries from Aetolia, Thessaly, Athamania, Acarnania and the
rest of Hellas. The so-called @iAo: — the friends of the king - commanded
the individual divisions and together formed the royal council of war,
being in this respect entirely comparable to the leading Hetairoi, the
Companions of Alexander the Great.

The crossing to Italy, made with the help of Tarentine and Macedo-
nian ships, proved difficult. A severe storm scattered the armada so that
to begin with Pyrrhus arrived in Tarentum with only part of his army.
But even so he was immediately chosen as orparnyos avtoxpdtwp — that
is, as supreme commander, with unlimited authority. He adopted vigor-
ous measures to strengthen the city’s defensive capabilities, not only
occupying the fortress immediately with his own Epirote troops so that
he had a better hold on the city, but also forbidding all theatrical
performances, closing the gymnasia and prohibiting the ovaoira, or
communal messes, which met there according to Laconian custom:
Tarentum was the one colony founded by Sparta. He conscripted all
able-bodied young men for military service and demanded heavy finan-
cial sacrifices from the rest of the citizens. Any dissipation or desertion
was harshly punished. He aimed to increase the effectiveness of his army
to the optimum through continual training. When some of the aristo-
crats tried to exploit the unrest and discontent which soon arose in
Tarentum, by stirring up the people against the Molossian king, they
were immediately deported to Epirus or put to death without further
ado. Pyrrhus even brought his influence to bear on the city’s mint, whose
autonomy he always formally recognized, for alongside the picture of the
dolphin-rider there appeared subsidiary symbols referring to the king on
the Tarentine staters: the lightning and eagle of Zeus of Dodona, a spear-
head as a symbol of ‘the house of Aeacus powerful with spears’ — as
Leonidas of Tarentum calls Pyrrhus’ line in an epigram!3 —, an elephant
and the helmet of the Macedonian kings with the two goat’s horns, worn
both by Pyrrhus and by Alexander the Great before him.!4

The news of the king’s arrival in Tarentum caused consternation in

13. Anth. Pal. v1.130.

14 In the Alexander Mosaic in Naples the horned helmet lies on the ground beneath the king, who
is fighting bare-headed. For Pyrrhus cf. Plut. Pyrr4. 11.11; for Philip V, Livy xxvit.33.3.

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PYRRHUS IN TARENTUM 467

Rome. The Romans had only recently succeeded in defeating the united
army of the Boii and Etruscans at Lake Vadimon and had at long last
managed to bind the most important Etruscan communities by treaty to
Rome. Nor had it proved easy for Rome to defend herself against the
Senones who had descended upon her from northern Italy in the same
year, although everything had ended extremely satisfactorily with the
annexation of the ager Gallicus and the founding of the colony of Sena
Gallica on the Adriatic. The heavy losses incurred during the Third
Samnite War (298-290), which had finally brought Rome and her allies
to supremacy in Central Italy, were still a painful memory. The fact was
that Rome urgently needed a long period of peace in which to consoli-
date what she had achieved so far. Since the city on the Tiber was also
involved time and again in battles with the Etruscans, and since the
Samnites and Lucanians still remained bitter enemies, Rome had to strain
every muscle if she was to succeed against Pyrrhus. Additional troops
were therefore levied, allegedly even from the pro/etarii — that class of
citizen without means which was normally exempt from taxation or
military service and which could only be called up in time of tumultus
maximus, in cases, that is, of extreme emergency. Roman troops were
quartered in allied Greek cities such as Rhegium, Thurii and Locri (Map
10). Rome itself was placed under the protection of a strong garrison.

In 281/0, contrary to normal practice, L. Aemilius Barbula had not led
his army from Tarentum back to their winter quarters, but had with-
drawn to the area around Venusia so as to be able to keep the Samnites
and Lucanians in check. P. Valerius Laevinus, one of the two new
consuls for the year 280, marched with another contingent towards the
king and tried to cut him off from the Lucanians, who had promised him
reinforcements. It would seem that both Roman commanders achieved
their aim at first, for Pyrrhus set up camp in the plain between Pandosia
and Heraclea, north of the river Siris, and bided his time. His army was
outnumbered by the Romans, who were about 30,000 strong, for he had
left some of his troops behind for the protection of Tarentum. As the
hoped-for reinforcements from the local tribes and the other Greek cities
had not yet materialized, the king had to try to gain time. So he sent an
envoy to Valerius Laevinus with the suggestion that the dispute with
Tarentum should be settled by a neutral court of arbitration. This was a
perfectly customary procedure among the Hellenistic states at that time
and even earlier. It was also a procedure which Pyrrhus himself recom-
mended in his treatise on tactics — a document which has unfortunately
since disappeared — where he argued that before any battle priority
should be given to exploring all possible diplomatic means of reaching a
settlement in order to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Pyrrhus held to this
principle of negotiation both now and later, after his victory at Heraclea,

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468 10. PYRRHUS

even though he was in fact in a favourable position; as a result he appears
not at all a man who thrived on the adventure of war, who sought
decisions by battle alone — as some ancient sources and modern research
alike would have him.'5

But the Roman consul, who was on the opposite side of the river,
declined the suggestion, although acceptance would have meant friend-
ship and alliance with the Epirote. Perhaps the Roman feared that the
setting up of a court of arbitration of this kind would inevitably be to
Rome’s disadvantage, or perhaps he hoped to bring about a military
decision before Pyrrhus’ army outnumbered his own. It was the Roman
consul too who opened the attack and ordered his cavalry, which was
stationed on the wings, to cross the Siris. This manoeuvre meant that the
Epirotes, who were drawn up beside the river, were in danger of being
trapped in a pincer movement, and they withdrew hurriedly, leaving the
way open for both legions to cross unhindered. When the Greek phalanx
clashed with the Romans it was in great danger for a while, though
Pyrrhus appeared everywhere among his men, inspiring courage wher-
ever he went. Pyrrhus usually had his elephants in the centre acting as a
wedge, but on this occasion he had divided them between the two wings
on either side and when he brought them into action against the Roman
cavalry the legions were terrified at the unaccustomed sight of the wild,
loudly trumpeting beasts and began to flee in panic. The great Hannibal
himself— who in conversation with Scipio Africanus is said to have called
Pyrrhus the best commander after Alexander the Great — repeated this
tactical concept with great success at the battle on the Trebia in 218.
Pyrrhus took the enemy camp and only nightfall put an end to the pursuit
of the enemy. The remnant of the Roman army escaped to Venusia but
over 7ooo men had fallen and 1800 had been taken prisoner. Yet the
Molossian king is said to have exclaimed, ‘Another such victory and we
are lost!’, for he too had lost 4000 soldiers, among them some of his
trusted friends and best officers, and replacing them would prove
extremely difficult. (The expression ‘Pyrrhic victory’ is derived from this
statement, though it is in fact modern.) Pyrrhus was impressed by the
courage of the enemy soldiers and gave orders that the dead — allegedly
all wounded in the breast only — be given an honourable burial. He
celebrated his victory with votive offerings of captured enemy weapons
at his native temple at Dodona. A modest bronze tablet still survives with
the votive inscription: ‘King Pyrrhus and the Epirotes and the
Tarentines to Zeus Naius from the Romans and their allies’ (Fig. 5 4).1°
He sent his own armour and Bouxédada — the heads of sacrificial beasts —
to the temple of Athena at Lindus on the island of Rhodes. Zeus of

1S Cf. Carcopino 1961{J25 3), uff. 16 SIG 392.

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NEGOTIATIONS WITH ROME 469

Fig. 54. Dedicatory inscription (with supplements) from Dodona recording Pyrrhus’ defeat of
the Romans and their allies at Heraclea (SIG 392). From Franke 1955 [J257], fig. 2.

Tarentum also received rich votive offerings and the Tarentines likewise
sent offerings to Athens to demonstrate the significance of this victory
over the barbarians. On Tarentine coins a small elephant and a flying
Nike proclaimed the victory they had gained together.

IV. NEW NEGOTIATIONS WITH ROME. THE BATTLE AT
AUSCULUM 279 B.C.

Pyrrhus’ first great military success had far-reaching consequences, for
now not only the Lucanians, Samnites and Bruttii but also the Greek
cities, which had so far sat on the fence, openly declared their support for
the victor — led by the city of Croton. When Pyrrhus appeared outside
Locri the citizens hastily delivered up the Roman garrison, but Pyrrhus
immediately let 200 men go free without demanding a ransom. Rhegium,
whose inhabitants also wanted to join Pyrrhus, could only be kept loyal
to Rome by the exercise of brute force on the part of the Campanian
troops stationed there and by the murder of the most influential of her
citizens.

But Pyrrhus, like Hannibal after him, did not know how to exploit his
victory to the full. His opponent, King Antigonus Gonatas of Macedo-
nia, is said to have remarked mockingly that, as a player, Pyrrhus made
many good throws but he did not know how to use them. He now
marched the reinforcements he had been awaiting from his allies
northwestwards through Lucania and Campania whilst his troops peri-

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470 Io. PYRRHUS

odically plundered the land of his allies en route. But he failed to take
Naples and Capua, which Laevinus had been able to occupy in the nick of
time as he hurried past. So the king advanced along the Via Latina and
through Fregellae towards Rome. His intention can hardly have been to
beleaguer the city, protected as it was even at that time by a city wall, and
still less to take the city by surprise, an undertaking for which his army
would scarcely have been large enough. It seems much more likely that
his aim was to try to make contact with the Etruscans and thus force
Rome into a war on two fronts. Meanwhile, however, the other consul,
Ti. Coruncanius, had defeated and concluded a peace treaty — or at any
rate a cease-fire — with Volsinii and Vulci and was free to come to Rome’s
assistance. It was now Pyrrhus’ turn to be faced with the danger of being
trapped between the two consular armies and he withdrew from
Anagnia, about 60 km. south of Rome, back to Tarentum where he set up
winter quarters in the autumn of 280.

From here Pyrrhus tried once again during the following months to
reach an amicable agreement with Rome. Ancient records of these
negotiations are contradictory and in addition the Roman annalistic
tradition is padded out with innumerable anecdotes and imaginative tales
which were intended to cast a particularly favourable light on Rome.
However, a tradition which goes back to Livy (the most reliable source
here), reveals that first of all a legation of three former consuls (véri
consulares) came to Pyrrhus in Tarentum to negotiate the release of the
prisoners of war in return for a ransom or in mutual exchange. They were
C. Fabricius Luscinus and Q. Aemilius Papus, the consuls of the year 282,
and P. Cornelius Dolabella, who had held that office in 283. Pyrrhus, who
was impressed by the personality of Fabricius, took Cineas’ advice and,
in the hope of achieving acceptable peace terms, released all the prisoners
without demanding a ransom, and sent them, probably in the late
autumn of 280, back to Rome with Cineas. The Thessalian, whose
eloquence was compared by contemporaries to that of Demosthenes, set
before the senate the terms under which enmity could be ended: (1) The
recognition of freedom (éAevOepia) and self-determination (adrovopia)
for Tarentum and all the other Greek cities in southern Italy — a demand
which was raised time and again (and never properly realized) during the
struggles for power among the individual Diadochi and which at the
same time represented the programme with which Pyrrhus had answered
Tarentum’s cry for help. (2) The return of all lands taken from the
Samnites, Lucanians and Bruttii to their original owners. This probably
also included the Roman colonies of Luceria (founded in 314) and
Venusia (founded in 291). It implied withdrawal from the whole of
Apulia, Bruttium, Lucania and Samnium, possibly of Campania too, and
would in effect have reduced Rome’s sphere of influence to Latium
alone. (3) The conclusion of an alliance, which the sources do not

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NEGOTIATIONS WITH ROME 471

further elaborate, with King Pyrrhus-— not, that is, with the Epirotes, nor
with Tarentum, which casts a telling light on Pyrrhus’ position.

In accordance with Hellenistic and oriental custom, Cineas took costly
gifts with him to Rome which he offered to the most influential personal-
ities and their wives and children. But in ignorance of Greek tradition the
Romans took this to be an attempt at bribery and refused the gifts.
Nevertheless, a majority in the senate appears to have been inclined to
accept the Molossian king’s undoubtedly harsh conditions because their
own strength seemed at an end. Since Pyrrhus had made it clear that he
sought peace, they doubtless hoped that further negotiations might
achieve some concessions. It was only when Appius Claudius Caecus,
now almost blind, spoke out resolutely against the peace proposals that
the senate rejected them. Ever since the construction of the Appian Way,
which had been named after him, he had taken a particular interest in
Campania and southern Italy (cf. p. 447f). His speech must have been
quite remarkably vivid and persuasive. It was still frequently read in
Cicero’s day!” and was regarded as the oldest document of its kind to be
preserved in the Roman archives. Despite this decision, however,
Fabricius was sent once more to Pyrrhus to negotiate about the fate of the
prisoners-of-war, who now faced the prospect of being returned to
Pyrrhus and sold as slaves. With a generous and characteristic gesture,
Pyrrhus released them and declared that he did not wish to haggle over
the price of their freedom but would prefer to pit his strength against
Rome once more on the battlefield. Cineas is said to have considered the
Roman senate to be like an assembly of kings!8 but Pyrrhus was quite
their equal in dignity and self-assurance.

After the breakdown of negotiations with Rome, the king reinforced
his military capability and also recruited new mercenaries, mostly from
southern Italy. Not unnaturally the Greek cities, for the sake of whose
liberty and independence, after all, the whole campaign was being
undertaken, were now called upon to finance operations. Tarentum had
to reduce the average weight of her silver staters from 7.9 g. to 6.5 g. so
that she could mint more money. The so-called Temple Archives of
Locri show what immense sums of money Pyrrhus also managed to
obtain elsewhere, and reveal too how rich and flourishing these cities
were. The archives consist of thirty-eight bronze tablets with inscrip-
tions from the temple of Zeus Olympios which once stood in Locri, and
were found in a stone box in the winter of 1958—9.!9 Seven of the
inscriptions can be dated to the time of Pyrrhus, between September 281

'7 Cie. Brut. 61; Sen. 16; cf. Sen. Ep. 114.13. "8 Plut. Pyrrh. 15.6.

19 De Franciscis 1972[J44]; cf. Panuccio 1974[J98], 105-20. The dating of these archives is still
controversial. Musti in Musti 1979[)118), 211ff envisages three possibilities: (1) that the king
referred to is indeed Pyrrhus, (z) that he is Agathocles, or even (3) — though this is unlikely ~ that he is
a city magistrate with the title of Bacwweus.

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472 10. PYRRHUS

and September 275. They reveal that during these six years no fewer than
11,240 silver talents were paid out of temple funds ‘to the king’ in the
form of loans or taxes. The Greek word ouvréAeca is used, which could
perhaps best be translated here as ‘contribution towards the common
cause’. This sum represents approximately 295 metric tons of silver, an
amount corresponding to 45.3 million of the Tarentine silver coins of the
time, weighing 6.5 g. each, or 53.6 million of Pyrrhus’ drachmai weigh-
ing 5.5 g. each. With this huge sum about 20—24,000 mercenaries could
be paid their customary daily drachma each for six years. At Ausculum
Pyrrhus’ army numbered some 40,000 but it was considerably smaller the
rest of the time. Temple income was derived from taxes, collections,
various special dues, and gifts to the gods, from the sale of wheat, barley,
wine and olive oil grown on temple lands, from the sale of tiles and bricks
of the temple’s own production and lastly but by no means least from the
considerable revenue from temple prostitution which was customary at
Locri in times of crisis. Locri had to raise the highest sums of 2685 talents
after the battle of Heraclea and of 2452 talents in September 276 after the
king’s return from Sicily. These annual accounts also reveal that, con-
trary to the statements of some ancient authors, Locri never fell into
Roman hands during the wars with Pyrrhus and certainly never joined
Rome voluntarily. It can, of course, be assumed that Pyrrhus received
similar sums of money, given more or less voluntarily, from other cities
allied to him, and especially from Tarentum which was most immediately
concerned.

In the spring of 279 Pyrrhus marched slowly northwards through
Apulia with an army reinforced by his allies to about 40,000 men, taking a
series of small towns on the way. The two new consuls, P. Sulpicius
Saverrio and P. Decius Mus, marched towards him to protect the
colonies of Venusia and Luceria and to prevent the king from penetrat-
ing as far as Samnium and from thence threatening Rome herself. The
two armies, about equal in strength, met near Ausculum, by a bridge
over the River Aufidus, swollen with flood-water. It was wooded
country, very unsuitable for the deployment of the cavalry, the Greek
phalanx and the elephants. Cicero’s account of the battle,2° as well as
those of other authors, shows the significance Rome attached to this
conflict, for the consul P. Decius Mus was alleged to have followed the
example of his famous father in 295 (p. 379) (and of his grandfather in
3.40? (p. 362)) and to have ‘devoted’ himself to the gods of the Under-
world, prepared to die to ensure a Roman victory. But this cannot be
true, for he is still mentioned in other sources as alive in 265 and the Fasti
Capitolini do not record his death in office in 279 as they would normally
have done.

® Cic. Fin. 11.61; Tuse. 1.39.

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THE ROMANO-PUNIC TREATY 473

The battle raged for two days, but we only have relatively detailed, if
sometimes contradictory, accounts of the second day, when Pyrrhus
moved his army before daybreak to the open plain which suited his
tactics better. He then placed his cavalry on the wings beside the
Samnites and Macedonians, with the elephants behind them, whilst in
the centre, from left to right, were the formations of Greek mercenaries,
the Epirotes, the Bruttii and Lucanians, the Tarentines and the
Ambracian and Italiote mercenaries. They faced four Roman legions and
their auxiliary units. For some time the battle raged back and forth
without decision. When the elephants were first sent into the fray, they
are said to have failed because of a counter-offensive by the waggons
which the Romans had equipped with scythes mounted on movable
poles. The Greek left wing retreated and when Pyrrhus extended the
centre to cover his left the Romans pushed forward here too. The king’s
camp was already being plundered and set on fire by Roman allied
troops. But eventually Pyrrhus himself, with his cavalry and elephants,
penetrated the front of the third and fourth legions who were fighting in
the centre and decided the outcome of the battle in his own favour,
although he was himself seriously wounded during this personal inter-
vention. Though over Gooo Romans fell, the rest managed to retreat toa
mountain fort and there hold out against further attacks. The king had
lost about 3500 men. He withdrew to Tarentum, all pleasure in his
victory overshadowed by the heavy losses. In addition he there received
bad news from home. The death of Ptolemy Ceraunus, who had been
killed along with most of his army early in 279 in a battle against the
Celtic tribes which had once again descended upon Macedonia, had
plunged the country into serious internecine struggles.21 None of the
various claimants to the throne were at first able to assert themselves.
The Molossians also felt increasingly threatened by these hordes of
barbarians who had thrust their way as far as Aetolia, plundering and
murdering as they went, for there was no longer the protection which
Ptolemy Ceraunus had previously given to Epirus. At all events there
were risings and unrest and Pyrrhus had to decide whether or not he
ought to return to Greece. The temptation to do so was all the greater
since he was forced to admit that there was scarcely any chance of quick
successes in Italy in view of the intensified Roman opposition on the one
hand and a growing aversion to himself in Tarentum on the other.

V. SYRACUSE CALLS FOR HELP. THE ROMANO-PUNIC TREATY
AGAINST PYRRHUS 279-8 B.C.

While Pyrrhus was still hesitating, messengers arrived in Tarentum from
Syracuse, offering the king the supreme command in the war against

21 On the Celtic invasion and Ceraunus’ death see E. Will in CAH vir.1 (Cambridge?, 1984), 115.

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474 10. PYRRHUS

Carthage. This offer was an open admission of the city’s own incompe-
tence and weakness. In fact, not only Syracuse but Greek Sicily generally
had been in a state of anarchy since the death of Agathocles in 289.
Syracuse itself, torn apart between the army and the civil leader Hicetas,
had been obliged to make a treaty with Carthage, by which she lost the
towns formerly under her control. Hicetas was soon faced with a series of
tyrants — Heracleidas in Leontini, Tyndarion in Tauromenium and
Phintias in Acragas — and was himself led to seize supreme power in
Syracuse. Phintias was defeated by Hicetas and several cities combined to
overthrow him. But soon afterwards, in 279, after being defeated by the
Carthaginians, Hicetas was replaced by Thoenon. However, he was
unable to assert himself for long. At the time of the offer to Pyrrhus the
Syracusans, embittered by Thoenon’s despotic rule, and aided by
Sosistratus, the new tyrant of Acragas, had driven him out of the city to
the off-shore island of Ortygia. From this island with its strong fortress,
and with the help of the fleet that was left to him, Thoenon caused much
harm to the citizens of Syracuse and disrupted the entire economic and
political life of the city. At the same time the Mamertines, the ‘sons of
Mars’, Campanian mercenaries who had formerly fought for the tyrant
Agathocles and had settled in Messana on the north-east coast of Sicily in
289,22 exploited time and again the weakness of the Syracusan state by
invading Syracusan territory, plundering, ravaging and taking as slaves
any inhabitants who fell into their hands. As the main power in Sicily,
Carthage too took the opportunity to do all she could by means of
continual raids and skirmishes to reduce the power of what had hitherto
always been her most dangerous opponent on the island. Thanks to a
situation which resembled civil war in Syracuse and the resyltant weak-
ening of Syracusan defences, Carthage could now hope at long last to
achieve the goal she had persistently followed for centuries — to bring all
Sicily under her sway.

The Syracusan offer seemed extremely tempting to Pyrrhus. As
erstwhile son-in-law to Agathocles he could put forward an entirely
legitimate claim to his realm, especially since Lanassa, the tyrant’s
daughter, had borne him the son Alexander whom he, for this reason,
designated later as heir to the kingdom of Sicily. Possession of this
immensely rich and fertile island, whose wealth was symbolized by the
Greek goddess Demeter, would doubtless put him ina far better position
than before to play a decisive role in the political life of the Hellenistic
states. At the same time it opened up the possibility of pursuing the war
against Rome on quite a different basis. It no doubt also appealed to his
broad vision and wide-ranging notions to liberate the Greeks on Sicily

22 For a different and slightly later date for the Mamertine seizure of Messana see below, p. 539.

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THE ROMANO-PUNIC TREATY 475

from the perpetual fear of the Carthaginians whom they despised as
barbarians, and possibly even, like Agathocles, to carry the battle over
the sea to Africa. Even if there really were renewed peace talks between
Pyrrhus and Rome after the battle at Ausculum, as is implied by some,
admittedly unreliable, sources, all negotiations were doomed to failure
from the moment the king learnt that Rome and Carthage were on the
point of forming an alliance against him.

Both Rome and Carthage were pursuing extremely selfish ends.
Carthage saw the Syracusan plea for help as a threat to her endeavour to
bring all Sicily, Syracuse at long last included, under her own control—an
ambition which seemed to be so near fulfilment. However, she feared
still more the lust for action and the military genius of the Molossian king
who, once landed in Syracuse, would have the support not only of the
Syracusans, but doubtless, thanks to his name, of the other Greek cities
on the island as well, as he marched against the Carthaginians whom they
all feared and hated. Rome on the other hand hoped at last to be rid of the
pressure which the king, with his great military experience and his
outstanding strategic and tactical skills, had now for some time been
exerting on the city and which also meant the continual additional danger
of renewed battle with the Etruscans and Samnites, whose sympathies
were unequivocally on Pyrrhus’ side. But it was Carthage who took the
initiative. As early as the autumn of 279 a fleet of 120 Carthaginian
warships arrived in Ostia, Rome’s harbour at the mouth of the Tiber, and
its commander, Mago, offered the senate military aid. The offer was
politely refused, but then a new treaty was signed after all, retaining the
earlier mutually agreed clauses of the so-called Philinus treaty of 306 —
which Polybius incorrectly represents as an anti-Roman fabrication of
the Greek historian Philinus, who lived in Acragas in the second half of
the third century B.c.?3 This new treaty was the fourth in the long history
of Romano-Punic relations, which began in 508/7. The text, which must
be understood, it is true, more as a preliminary contract, is preserved in
Polybius, but an interpretation of the first part and an exact translation
both present difficulties, for the historian, writing in Greek, has obvi-
ously tried to give as literal a rendering as possible of the text, which was
originally written in antiquated Latin and in the Punic language. Both
parties pledged themselves to give mutual military assistance, whereby
Carthage was to provide transport ships in both directions for the troops
of both powers whenever necessary. Each state was, however, respon-
sible for the payment of its own soldiers. Since the Romans at this time
did not yet possess a large, effective war-fleet, the Carthaginians pro-

23 Polyb. 11.25.16; cf. Schmitt 1969[J224], 101 n. 466. For further discussion both of the treaty
of 279/8 and of the problems surrounding the Philinus treaty see below, pp. 532ff.

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476 10. PYRRHUS

mised Rome active support at sea, with the express proviso, however,
that Carthaginian sailors were not to be forced to fight on land against
their will. The individual specifications make it clear that it must have
been an alliance against Pyrrhus and not a general treaty. The historical
situation also virtually rules out the interpretation held by some that the
introductory words refer to a possible agreement or even to a separate
peace treaty between either Rome or Carthage and Pyrrhus.24 Further,
there is no mention in the text which has come down to us of a monetary
payment to Rome by the Carthaginians: earlier assumptions that the first
minting ofa silver coinage by the Romans was linked with this treaty and
with financial support for Rome, stipulated in a section of the treaty
which has not been preserved, have been proved wrong. For only the
first two series of what are today known as the Romano-Campanian
didrachms can be dated back to the time of the war with Pyrrhus: (1) the
coins with the head of Mars on the obverse and a horse’s head, possibly in
imitation of a Punic model, on the reverse, which can be dated to the
years 280-270; (2) those with a laureate head of Apollo on the obverse
and a galloping horse and star on the reverse, which were probably
minted in 275—270.25 But the limited number of proven mint-marks and
preserved coins reveals that this must have been a very small issue, which
would hardly have sufficed to finance a war. The coins were mainly used,
along with the heavy cast bronze money, the aes grave, for trade with
South Italy.2° There were however two series of aes grave whose design
demonstrates a clear connexion with the war with Pyrrhus and which
must have been made during its final phase or soon after its conclusion.
Firstly, there were those currency bars weighing approximately a Roman
pound, or 334 g., one as in value, with the picture of an Indian elephant
on the obverse and a sow on the reverse (Fig. 55).2”7 The elephant
certainly appears here because Pyrrhus was the first to bring this animal
to Italy and employ it in battle, though the discipline and courage of the
Roman troops overcame the terror it first aroused. And it is certainly for
the same reason that we meet the elephant shortly afterwards as a motif in
Latin-Etruscan vase-painting (p. 411). Ancient tradition has it that, in the
decisive battle of the war at Beneventum in 275, the king’s elephants
were put to flight by the sow and its pungent smell, hence the sow on the
reverse of the currency. Secondly, there were similar pieces of the same
value with the eagle of Iuppiter Capitolinus on the obverse and a Pegasus
on the reverse.28 The latter is frequently found on coins as a symbol of

24 On this issue ef. below, p. 536 with n. 46. 25 RRC nos. 13 and 135.

2% Cf. p. 415 (with an alternative dating of the Mars/horse’s head didrachm and variant
interpretation of the purpose of these issues).

27 RRC n. 9. 2 RRC n. 4.

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PYRRHUS IN SICILY 477

Fig. 55. Cast bronze bar (so-called ‘aes signatum’) depicting Indian elephant and sow (RRC 9;
27$—242 B.C.).

Carthage and is here perhaps a definite allusion to the Romano-Punic
treaty of 279/8.

The agreement was especially advantageous for Rome, for with the
help of the Carthaginian fleet she was in a far better position to attack and
blockade Tarentum from the sea — by land the king was stronger. It also
seemed possible that in this way reinforcements could be prevented from
arriving from Greece, or at any rate their journey could be made
extremely hazardous. On the other hand Rome had by no means under-
taken to give Carthage massive support against the Greeks in Sicily, no
doubt partly out of consideration for the Greek cities in southern Italy,
some of which were friendly towards Rome. Carthage believed that the
treaty would prevent Rome from making peace with Pyrrhus, thereby
rendering it unsafe for the king to leave Italy and so keeping him well
away from Sicily and Syracuse. For the Molossian king the treaty meant a
strong shift in the relative strengths of the combatants in Italy to his own
disadvantage, for from now on he had to reckon not only with Italian
troops under Rome’s command but also with the Carthaginian fleet and
possibly even with Carthaginian land troops as well. But on the other
hand, the conquest of Syracuse by the Carthaginians would virtually
mean the collapse of his whole policy so far, which had advertised the
liberation of the Greeks from the barbarian threat as its foremost
objective, and this would be sure to have an extremely negative effect on
his reputation both in Italy and in Greece itself. So Pyrrhus, not
unwillingly, now turned his attention towards Sicily, the possession of
which seemed to open up far greater future possibilities for his ambitions
than did Italy.

VI. PYRRHUS IN SICILY

So, in the spring of 278, after further indecisive fighting in Apulia — it was
at this time that Pyrrhus is alleged to have narrowly escaped being

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478 10. PYRRHUS

murdered by his personal physician, thanks to a magnanimous warning
from the consul C. Fabricius — the king began to make the necessary
preparations for the crossing to Sicily. It would seem that Rome expected
a decision of this nature, for at this time, and evidently very soon after the
ratification of the treaty for mutual assistance, the Carthaginians trans-
ported 500 Roman soldiers on their ships to Rhegium. But the attempt to
take the city in a surprise coup and thereby to gain control of the
strategically important straits between Sicily and the southern tip of Italy
failed, though it did prove possible to win over the Mamertines in
Messana to an alliance with Carthage. Not long afterwards the Punic
fleet of about 130 ships, under the command of the admiral Mago,
appeared off Syracuse and blockaded the great harbour. The Syracusans’
cry for help became more insistent than ever and the king was forced to
take action. Once again he sent first his trusted friend Cineas to negotiate
in advance with the Greek cities on the island and thus by diplomatic
means to prepare the ground thoroughly before his own arrival. Then, in
the summer of 278, he himself set out for Sicily with a relatively modest
army of only 8000 foot soldiers and a small number of horsemen and
elephants, leaving a large garrison behind in Tarentum under the com-
mand of the reliable general Milo. Other Epirote troops remained
stationed in various places allied to him, as protection against the
Romans and against the danger of betrayal, though they could not
prevent the two new consuls, C. Fabricius Luscinus and Q. Aemilius
Papus, from winning back, in the course of the year, some of the peoples
and cities which had previously gone over to Pyrrhus. In Rome in the
winter of the same year, they celebrated a triumph over the Lucanians,
Samnites, Tarentines and Bruttii, which shows that their successes must
have been considerable.

On his voyage with the expeditionary corps southwards from
Tarentum along the coast, Pyrrhus landed first at Locri, which still
had to provide strong financial backing. Then he crossed over to
Tauromenium in Sicily. Tyndarion, the tyrant there, was willing to join
him and placed his army under the king’s command. When he landed at
Catana Pyrrhus was greeted jubilantly as the long-awaited liberator and
honoured with wreaths of gold. Not only this, but he also received
reinforcements in the form of a citizen levy. The army then proceeded
overland towards Syracuse, the fleet of about 60, mostly Tarentine, ships
sailing ready for action along the coast and covering the advance of the
land troops. As the king approached Syracuse the Punic admiral hastily
lifted the blockade, for although he had about 100-130 ships at his
disposal, he was in danger of being caught between the 140 Syracusan

29 Diod. xxt1.7.4.

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PYRRHUS IN SICILY 479

ships that lay in the harbour and Pyrrhus’ fleet at sea. The Carthaginian
army also lifted the siege and beat a hurried retreat. Pyrrhus was thus able
to enter Syracuse in triumph amid the cheers of the Greeks, and the city
was formally handed over to him by Sosistratus. Thoenon then likewise
handed over Ortygia and the fleet, a welcome reinforcement. Thus
Pyrrhus’ skilful negotiations even succeeded — perhaps under threat — in
reconciling the two antagonistic former rulers of the city. The other
Greek cities on Sicily, hopeful of a near and final end to the ever-present
Punic threat, all sent envoys to Syracuse announcing their desire to
support Pyrrhus and to subordinate themselves to him. Among them,
for example, was Heracleidas, the tyrant of Leontini, who sent Pyrrhus
an army of 4000 foot soldiers and 500 horsemen. Very soon the
Molossian king had at his disposal an army of over 30,000 men and 2500
horse and the Carthaginians withdrew to their original dominions, their
epikratia, in the west of the island.

In spring 277 Pyrrhus marched via Enna, which of its own accord had
forced its Punic garrison to withdraw towards Acragas. Here the tyrant
Sosistratus, who had shared in the invitation to Pyrrhus to come to
Syracuse, joined the king, allegedly with thirty other towns within his
territory, and strengthened the king’s army by a further 8000 foot
soldiers and 800 horsemen. In a triumphal march Heraclea Minoa,
Azonae, Selinus, Halicyae, Segesta and the other towns of the interior,
both large and small, fell into Pyrrhus’ hands one after another in rapid
succession. Even the inaccessible, strongly fortified hill fortress on
Mount Eryx (Map 15: p. 561) on the north-west coast was besieged and
taken. Splendid victory celebrations and contests were held there in
honour of Heracles, who had been revered here since ancient times and
who was, of course, held to be an ancestor of the Aeacid line. After his
first successes, if not earlier, Pyrrhus — who at first appears to have had
only a hegemonial position in Sicily — seems to have been proclaimed
king ~ BaotAevs — according to Greek custom by the Siceliot troops and
was thus confirmed as legitimate successor to Agathocles. Other ac-
counts, however, imply that it was on his arrival in Syracuse that he was
greeted with this honorary title, which was tied to the person and not toa
particular territory. Be that as it may, he designated Alexander, his son by
Lanassa, as heir to the Sicilian kingdom, whilst Helenus was to succeed
to his dominions in Italy — whatever one is to understand by that — and
Ptolemy to those in Epirus.

When Panormus also fell and the Mamertines had suffered several
serious defeats in the north-east of the island, the Carthaginians were left
with only the important harbour of Lilybaeum on the west coast under

%® Justin. xxt1.3.

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480 10. PYRRHUS

their control. Since they had reason to fear losing even this last bastion
and with it every vestige of influence they had on the island, they offered
Pyrrhus peace talks. They declared themselves willing to pay a large war-
indemnity and — despite the treaty with Rome — to put ships at the king’s
disposal for further operations. This implies that they hoped — indeed
even expected — that the king would return to Italy. At first Pyrrhus was
indeed willing to accept what appeared to be a favourable offer, for the
situation in Italy had certainly not developed in his favour during 277.
The consul C. Cornelius Rufinus had conquered Croton, now therefore
lost to Pyrrhus’ cause, though contrary to later literary tradition the
newly found inscriptions from the temple archives (p. 471f) show that
Locri had been able to hold out. But Caulonia had fallen into the hands
of the enemy and the Samnites, Lucanians and Bruttii had suffered
repeated defeats as is evident from the records of triumphal processions
held in Rome in 277 and 276. The enthusiasm for Pyrrhus’ cause and
willingness to support a king fighting in Sicily — that is, relatively far
away — were decreasing steadily. But the royal council summoned by
Pyrrhus, which included not only his trusted confidants but also repre-
sentatives of the individual Sicilian cities, decided after lengthy debate to
turn down the Punic peace offer. The whole of Sicily must be liberated;
otherwise all effort and sacrifice would have been in vain. Every single
Carthaginian base on the island was a potential starting-point for future
new conflicts.

But the determined siege of Lilybaeum which was now begun had to
be broken off after two months without result. It was virtually imposs-
ible to take the city from the landward side, and there was scant hope of
carrying out a successful sea blockade — Pyrrhus’ fleet was just not large
enough. For this reason he now set his hopes upon a campaign in Africa.
Like Agathocles, he wanted to transport the war in a newly built fleet
across the sea to the homeland of the enemy and force a conclusive
decision there. But he tried to put his plans into practice with characteris-
tic impatience and this very soon led to serious conflict with his allies. For
not only did he begin — like Agathocles and like other Hellenistic rulers
of his time — to exact taxes from them as though they were his subjects,
but he also demanded the provision of oarsmen and sailors for his new
fleet and the money with which to pay them. Not surprisingly, the cities
were even more angered at his encroachment on their own autonomy,
especially when he interfered with their jurisdiction and took upon
himself the direction of individual cases in which he had a particular
interest. He also confiscated as royal lands property which had once
belonged to Agathocles, dispossessed the present owners and made gifts
of vast stretches of land to his friends and followers. Thus the latter in
turn acquired substantial influence in the cities and these Epirotes, who

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PYRRHUS RETURNS TO ITALY 481

had so suddenly risen to rank and wealth, tended frequently to despise
the local population which was in fact culturally far their superior. In
this way a body of strong opposition developed, especially in Syracuse,
similar to that which had grown up in Tarentum ~ an opposition which
did not shrink from renewing broken links with Carthage and betraying
the Greek cause, as so often, for its own selfish ends. This led Pyrrhus to
take vigorous action. Thoenon and other Syracusans suspected of con-
spiring with the enemy were put to death. Sosistratus managed to escape
in time but by his actions the king lost one of his most valuable allies, who
ruled not only over Acragas but also over a large area of the rest of the
island. Pyrrhus’ measures did not, however, prevent some of the cities
from openly joining the Mamertines and others the Carthaginians, and
the latter, unhindered by Pyrrhus, proceeded to bring a powerful new
army over to Sicily, because they could now hope to reverse the setbacks
they had suffered so far. The situation worsened when envoys arrived in
Syracuse from the Samnites, Lucanians and Bruttii urgently begging
Pyrrhus to return as soon as possible to Italy, for Rome had increased the
pressure on these tribes still further and they saw in Pyrrhus their only
hope of changing the situation. Pyrrhus also had reason to fear that his
overland link with Tarentum, which led through Bruttium, might be cut
off and that all his plans would collapse like a house of cards if Samnium
and Lucania should fall to the Romans. His decision to abandon the
Sicilian expedition and to return to Tarentum was made the easier since
he was forced to admit that the Sicilian cause was already all but lost — an
outcome for which he himself was certainly not free from blame.

VII. PYRRHUS RETURNS TO ITALY. THE BATTLE OF
BENEVENTUM 273 B.C.

Plutarch?! records Pyrrhus as saying that he left the island behind himas a
wrestling ground for the Romans and Carthaginians, as he set sail from
Syracuse in the late summer of 276, with 110 warships and numerous
cargo ships. But as he sailed northwards along the Sicilian coast he was
surprised by a Punic fleet not far from Rhegium and suffered heavy
losses. Over seventy of his warships were sunk and many others badly
damaged. Only a dozen escaped unharmed. Yet the Carthaginians had
not achieved their real objective ~ the destruction of Pyrrhus’ entire
army, for the fleet of transport ships was able to get away and land
unhindered at Locri. From Locri, Pyrrhus went to Rhegium, but he was
unable to take the city because of the strong resistance put up by the
Campanian garrison there, which was under Roman command and

30 Plut. Pyrrb. 23.8.

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482 10. PYRRHUS

reinforced by Mamertines from Messana. As he was retreating from the
city he was ambushed by the Mamertines and suffered further heavy
losses. His army only escaped from this precarious situation with the help
of the personal intervention of the king himself who, in single combat,
allegedly cut an opponent in two with a single blow of his sword. He
finally arrived back in Locri with 20,000 men and 3000 horsemen — even
now a considerable army — and once again exacted a particularly high
sum in taxation from the city (p. 472) in order to cover his losses and
recruit new mercenaries. Not content with this, he also confiscated the
treasures of the temple of Persephone in Locri, to the great indignation
of the Greeks. He gave most of them back again, however, when the
ships carrying the booty to Tarentum ran into a severe storm, which he
took to bea bad omen. Wedo not know for certain whether Pyrrhus now
also turned once more to Greece, and in particular to Antigonus Gonatas
of Macedonia and Antiochus I of Syria, with a plea or even a demand for
further support. The Samnites and Lucanians, weary after three years of
heavy losses in their war with Rome, showed little inclination to con-
tinue to support the king without reservation. But on the other hand, the
consuls of the year 275 found it equally difficult to mobilize a new army,
the more so as Rome had been visited in 276 by an outbreak of plague
which had taken a heavy toll of lives. Livy reports a drop in the number
of citizens from 287,222 inthe year 280 to only 271,224 in 275. The consul
M’. Curius Dentatus threatened any citizen who sought to evade military
service with the sale of his person into slavery and the disposal of all his
property,2 the first time such a threat had ever been issued and a sure
indication of just how war-weary the Romans also were.

In the spring of 275 both consuls moved their armies into strategic
positions to prevent Pyrrhus from advancing towards Rome once again.
L. Cornelius Lentulus stationed himself in Lucania in order either to
intercept Pyrrhus at this early stage if possible or to cut him off from his
lines of communication in the event of an attack on Rome. M’. Curius
meanwhile occupied the passes near the town of Malventum, which later,
in 268, became a Roman colony with Latin rights and was renamed
Beneventum. His aim was to hinder Pyrrhus from advancing towards
Capua and Rome. Pyrrhus ordered one division to protect his south flank
against Lentulus and himself marched against M’. Curius. For the first
time his army was seriously outnumbered by the Romans, so he tried to
gain a tactical advantage by finding a favourable height from which he
could makea surprise attack.on the enemy camp. But his Epirote troops,
unacquainted with the terrain, got lost during a night-time advance to
the planned position for attack and were beaten back with relative ease

32 Livy, Per. xiv; Val. Max. v1.3.4.

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DEATH OF PYRRHUS 483

next morning by the Romans, who had been observing their approach.
In the ensuing battle on the plain the exhausted Greeks broke down in
face of the onslaught of the legions and the Romans succeeded in so
frightening the king’s elephants with burning arrows that they stam-
peded and charged towards their own ranks. Eight of the animals were
captured and shown in Rome for the first time in 272, in Curtus’
triumphal procession. The Romans also took Pyrrhus’ camp, thus giving
their officers their first opportunity to see for themselves how the Greeks
managed undertakings of this kind. Later, when he was censor, M’.
Curius had Rome’s second great aqueduct, the Anio Vetus, built from
some of the booty which was taken here and allotted to him as com-
mander (p. 408).

VIII. RETURN TO EPIRUS. DEATH OF PYRRHUS, 272 B.C.

Pyrrhus was now in danger of being trapped between the armies of the
two consuls and he withdrew with all speed to Tarentum after his defeat.
There are no reliable figures for his losses — later Roman sources
exaggerated shamelessly ~ but they were at any rate high enough for him
to decide to return to Epirus, and in the autumn of 2735 he set sail for
Greece with only 8000 soldiers and 500 horsemen. He left his son
Helenus and his general Milo behind in Tarentum with a relatively
strong contingent of troops to demonstrate that he had by no means
abandoned his Italian plans and would continue to intervene on behalf of
the freedom of the Greek cities and especially of Tarentum. But in reality
he had been defeated by a stronger opponent, and he knew it.

It is true that Pyrrhus did win back the title of king of Macedonia in
274, within a mere few months of his return, ina battle against Antigonus
Gonatas. Already decked out in the insignia of this office, he was able,
through the continuing magnetism of his personality, to bring the
Macedonian phalanx over to his side during a battle in the gorges of the
Aous, near present-day Tepelene in Albania. But even this success did
not put him ina position to return to Italy, and in addition, his reputation
in Macedonia, at first immensely high, shrank very rapidly when he left
his own occupying troops in Macedonian towns and allowed his Celtic
mercenaries to plunder the tombs of the Macedonian kings at Aegae.
These tombs were rediscovered in 1976 near the Hellenistic palace of
Vergina, not far to the south of Beroea in the foothills of Olympus. In the
winter of 274/3 he summoned his son Helenus back from Tarentum,
though Milo still remained for the time being. Restlessly pursuing one
new scheme after another, he appeared with an army in the Peloponnese
in the following spring of 272, on the excuse that his general Cleonymus,
son of the Spartan king Cleomenes II, wished to be reinstated in his

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484 10. PYRRHUS

ancestral rights in Laconia. At the same time he announced his desire to
free all Greece from the domination of Antigonus Gonatas — a slogan
which was, of course, far too transparent to take anybody in, though the
Aetolians did make an alliance with him. But an attack on Sparta failed,
with considerable losses, and his own son Ptolemy was among the dead.
In the late autumn of 272, after a few skirmishes in Laconia, Pyrrhus
marched to Argos, where Antigonus had appeared with an army. Thanks
to the secret help of a friend, a citizen of Argos, and ignoring the city’s
neutrality, Pyrrhus forced his way into the town — despite unfavourable
sacrificial omens. But in the ensuing street fighting he was mortally
wounded by a tile, hurled down by a woman from the roof of her house,
when she saw him threaten her son — an ignominious end for so famous a
man. His body was burnt by the victors and later a memorial was erected
to him on the site, with the king’s weapons and pictures of his elephants.
The records are contradictory as to whether his mortal remains were
taken to the temple of Demeter in Argos or laid to rest in the Pyrrheum in
Ambracia where he had built his residence.

IX. EPILOGUE

Doubtless influenced by the news of the Molossian king’s death,
Tarentum soon afterwards (in 272) surrendered to the Romans and was
included among the naval allies (soc#i navales).33 Milo and the Epirotes
were granted safe conduct. The long years of war with Pyrrhus and their
heavy losses nevertheless continued to determine Roman policy towards
the other Hellenistic powers and especially towards Philip V of Macedo-
nia* for a long time to come. The king’s personality, to which statues at
Athens, Olympia and Callipolis in Aetolia bear witness, also continued to
fascinate Roman authors from Ennius*> until long after Plutarch, in a
way quite different from that of Hannibal. For Pyrrhus, like Alexander
the Great, whom he took for his example and whose heir he felt himself
to be, united military genius with personal courage, diplomatic skill with
winning charm, charisma even, and was totally devoid of the ‘Punic’
slyness and cruelty which were later to become proverbial in Rome.
Under Pyrrhus, remote Epirus played a brief but significant role within
the sphere of Graeco-Roman politics — indeed, if the king had been
successful, its role would have had significance on the stage of world
politics. Despite his wars, Pyrrhus pressed ahead with the construction
of his residence in Ambracia, and with new buildings for the sanctuary at
Dodona and other places in Epirus. He found time to encourage the arts

33 Schmitt 1969[J224], 128 n. 475. 4 Livy xxx1.7.8—12. 38 Cic. Div. 11.116-17.

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EPILOGUE 485

and foster trade with southern Italy and Sicily which continued to
flourish from then on.*

It comes as no surprise that the rediscovery of Plutarch in England,
which was to influence so greatly the works of Shakespeare, led also to
works inspired by Pyrrhus. In 169; Charles Hopkins dedicated an —
admittedly mediocre — drama called Pyrrhus to the Duke of Gloucester?’
as a kind of Farstenspiegel. Nicolas Poussin painted The young Pyrrhus on his
Flight to Illyria in Paris as early as 1665. Still earlier, the Albanian national
hero George Kastrioti Skanderbeg called up memories of both Pyrrhus
and Alexander the Great in his struggle against the Turks in 1443-68,
and for this reason also wore like them a helmet with goat’s horns in
battle. His contemporaries called him princeps Epirotarum and the
Albanians call themselves to this day ‘Skipetars’ — Sons of the Eagle — the
name Pyrrhus, the ‘eagle’, used to flatter his Epirote soldiers.38

% Breglia 1941[Jzs2], 193ff.

37 C. Hopkins, Pyrrbus, King of Epirus. A Tragedy, acted at the New Theatre in Little Lincolns-
Inn-Fields, by his Majesty’s Servants, printed for Samuel Briscoe in Covent-Garden: Peter Buck, at
the Sign of the Temple, and Daniel Dring, at the Harrow and Crown, in Fleet-street, 1695.

38 Plut. Pyrrb. 10.1; cf. Nederlof 1940[B122}, 48.

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CHAPTER 11

CARTHAGE AND ROME!

H.H. SCULLARD

I. CARTHAGINIAN PUBLIC AND PRIVATE LIFE
(a) The Carthaginian state

The Carthaginian state impressed the ancient world not only for its
wealth, but also for its stability and endurance. Its riches may have
provoked envy, and its increasing corruption contempt, but its tenacity
evoked respect even from Greeks and Romans, its age-long enemies.
Thus Cicero wrote (Rep. fr. 3) ‘Carthage would never have held an
empire for six hundred years had it not been governed with wisdom and
statesmanship’, and Aristotle classed its constitution with those of Sparta
and Crete as one of the three actual states which through their stability
most nearly approached the ideal ‘mixed’ polity (Po/. 11.127 b ff): it was in
fact the only non-Hellenic constitution that he included in his long series
of constitutional studies. Isocrates (Nicocles 24) echoes the same theme:
‘the Carthaginians and Lacedaemonians, who are the best-governed
peoples in the world’ (rovs dptora t&v GAAwv ToAtrevopévous). Wealth
and constitutional stability were closely linked. The wealth of Carthage
derived from her territorial empire in North Africa and the western
Mediterranean; it was safeguarded by naval protection of her overseas

' If Carthaginian historians ever recorded the story of their city and civilization, their works
have perished, together with any other literature that Punic writers may have produced. Thus the
surviving literary sources for Carthaginian history are Greek and Roman authors, men who
belonged to peoples to whom the Punic way of life was alien and whose own states were for long
periods politically hostile to Carthage. But enmity, prejudice and lack of sympathy have not totally
obscured the Carthaginian achievement: thus, for example, Eratosthenes believed that many of the
‘barbarians’ were civilized, peoples such as Indians, Persians, together with Romans and
Carthaginians ‘who are so admirably governed’ (ap. Strabo 1.4.9, p. 16. c). But for an understanding
of Carthaginian civilization we have largely to depend on the ever increasing body of archaeological
evidence from the countries of the western Mediterranean.

For the First Punic War we have Polybius Book 1, which is based on the pro-Roman Fabius Pictor
and the pro-Carthaginian Philinus, though it is not always easy to attribute specific passages to either
the one or the other (further difficulties arise from the possibility that Fabius himself may have used
Philinus). Diodorus’ account of the First Punic War is based on Philinus, but he follows Polybius for
the War of the Mercenaries (which Philinus probably did not record). For detailed discussion and
other possible views see Walbank 1945(B181], 1-18; 1957-79[B182), 1.65; 1968—-9[B184], 493f;
1972(Br85], 77-8.

486

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE 487

trade which in turn provided her with financial means to maintain a
strong navy. Further, her commercial success gave political power to a
timocratic oligarchy which, by providing the state with the means of
hiring a mercenary army instead of depending upon a large citizen
militia, decreased the risk of military coups and enhanced political
stability.

The early history of Carthage has already been described in earlier
volumes,? including the gradual way she dominated the other Phoenician
settlements in the West and added her own quota to the number of
Semitic colonies; her extending influence in North Africa, Spain, Sar-
dinia and Sicily; her establishment of a commercial monopoly in western
waters and the consequential struggles (at times in concert with the
Etruscans) with the Greek cities which challenged her ascendancy; her
continuing success in the extreme west and her fluctuating fortunes in
Sicily. At times she acted aggressively, but her driving motive was to
protect and extend her commerce rather than to seize land for its own
sake. It was in response to these needs that her constitution and institu-
tions developed, and her successes came and went. By the sixth century
she had emerged as a powerful state, and though in the fifth century her
trade with the Greek world declined, she began to exploit further the
resources of her rich hinterland and her Libyan subjects. By the mid-
fourth century her commerce was flourishing again and she became
increasingly open to hellenizing influences; after the death of Alexander
the Great she was one of the five great Mediterranean powers, balancing
with Roman Italy in the West the three Successor States of the East. It is
at this point in her history, in the century or so before her clash with
Rome in 264 8B.c., that we may glance briefly at her public and private life.

Although the Carthaginian constitution was relatively stable, it naturally
underwent considerable change during the centuries, and our know-
ledge of it is very limited and patchy. Despite the loss of Aristotle’s
separate treatment, his comparative account of it in his Politics provides
much useful information for its institutions during his life-time, but its
early development is not clear; somewhat more is known about its final
stages during the struggles with Rome. As a ‘mixed’ constitution it
allegedly combined the best elements of monarchy, aristocracy and
democracy, but in practice it was an oligarchy in which wealth predomi-
nated (p. 492). The nature and history of the head of state, representing
the monarchical element, is obscure: king or magistrate? Tyre, the mother
city of Carthage, had been ruled by hereditary kings, and Greek authors
referred to BactAeis at Carthage, while in later times the executive officers

2 See G. Charles-Picard, CAH vt, Chap. rte.

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CARTHAGINIAN. LIFE

CARTHAGE AND ROME

it.

488

Map 16 The western Mediterranean in-the third century.

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49° II. CARTHAGE AND ROME

were not called kings (melekim) but judges (shophetim or in Latin sufetes). It
remains uncertain whether the word BaatAevs necessarily implies regal
power (and, if so, whether single or dual monarchy) or was loosely used
for ‘magistrates’. If monarchy did exist, it was based not on birth but on
election at least as early as 480 B.c. when according to Herodotus
(vu1.166) Hamilcar was chosen king because of his courage, and it
remained so in the time of Aristotle who records that the Baoueis (he
always uses the word in the plural) at Carthage were drawn, not from a
single family but from any outstanding family, and were chosen by
election and not by seniority. Whatever the nomenclature, these men at
this time were not pso facto generals: twice Aristotle (Po/. 11.1273 4 30, 37)
distinguishes ‘kings’ and ‘generals’. Since the word BaotAevds was fre-
quently applied to some predominant military leaders, particularly to
members of the Magonid family, military power could be, and appar-
ently often was on specific occasions, vested in these magistrates though
not inherent in their office — unless it be supposed that originally the
Baotreis enjoyed military authority which they lost as a right some time
before Aristotle. Roman writers called these executive officers sufetes.
Two in number and elected annually, they lacked military power, but
exercised more than judicial functions: thus they could summon the
council and the popular assembly, preside over them and present busi-
ness to them. Some scholars who believe in an early life-long monarchy
think that the safetes even existed at that time, and later gradually
overshadowed the kings as the archons did at Athens. If there was a
relatively sudden change in regal power, it may well date from the mid-
fifth century, as a reaction against the dangers to the state created by the
autocratic behaviour of the army commanders of the Magonid family,
since in order to check them a Court of One Hundred and Four Judges
was established to which generals on their return to Carthage had to
render account (Justin. x1x.2.5—6). This might well be the occasion to
change the title of the executive officers to sufetes.3

The discussion and determination of Carthaginian policy, both do-
mestic and foreign, rested with a council or senate of several hundred
(300?) life-members, whether co-opted or elected is uncertain. When it
reached an agreement acceptable to its own members and to the sufetes,
this did not need to be submitted to a popular assembly of citizens, which
was however consulted in case of disagreement and perhaps also on some

3 Maurin 1962(K82}, 16ff argues that the Court of One Hundred and Four Judges was created at
the beginning of the fourth century, not in the mid-fifth as is usually believed. For the view that the
two eponymous magistrates named sufefes in various Punic inscriptions were the annual presidents
of the Court of One Hundred and Four Judges see Pareo 1978(K95], 61-87. Inscriptions: Mahjoubi
and Fantar 1966[K79], 201-10; Dupont Sommer 1968[K3 3], 116-33; Garbini 1968(K4g], 11f;
Teixidor 1969{K129], 340-4; Garbini 1974[K5o0], 20ff.

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE 491

matters which had already been carefully prepared by the senate. In the
assembly however there was great freedom of speech, at least in later
times, and it was the assembly which, with certain restrictions, elected
the sufetes and the generals and possibly also the members of the senate.
But in practice the choice of candidates was presumably restricted by
prior arrangement. Beside the (300?) senators acting as a body, thirty or
so of them formed an inner council, which doubtless helped to prepare
and facilitate business as a committee of the larger body, but also
probably gained great power as a smaller cabinet. It was functioning in
the third century, but its earlier history is obscure, partly because of the
confusing titles used by ancient writers. Polybius (x.18.1), referring to
209 B.C., implies that the thirty were called yepovaia and the senate
avyxdntos (though occasionally he names one or other auvédprov), but it
is less certain that such a clear distinction is to be found in Diodorus’ use
of the words in his account (xIv.47.1—2) of a letter sent by Dionysius to
Carthage in 397 B.c., while the yepovaia which Aristotle compares with
that of Sparta may not be the yepovata of Polybius (or the consilium which
Livy xxx.16.3 indicates was a committee of the senatus) since this would
involve the consequence that he had overlooked the existence of the
larger senate.

Two other bodies gained increasing power in the state: the Court of
One Hundred and Four Judges and the Pentarchies. The former has
already been mentioned. Designed to keep ambitious generals in check,
after Aristotle’s time its competence was extended to include all public
officials who had to render to it an account of their year of office; this
function was similar to, but more extensive than, that of exthyne at Athens
and was compared by Aristotle to the watch-dog activities of the ephors
at Sparta. Its members were chosen from the senate, and (at least in the
second century) held office for life. Its powers gradually expanded until it
was universally feared and hated and Livy could write (xxx11.46.1) that
in the second century it dominated (dominabatur) the whole city, magis-
trates and people alike. At some point the election of its members was
entrusted to a number of mysterious Boards of Five (Pentarchies) which
are mentioned only by Aristotle, who says that they held office longer
than other magistrates and exercised authority both before and after
office. These bodies elected themselves and supervised various parts of
the administration, including probably finance but not military or imper-
ial affairs. Since they elected the Judges, the Pentarchs could themselves
pass into this Court, and the two bodies together could virtually control
the state.

Membership of the popular assembly must have been confined to the
male citizens of Carthage of a certain age, and just possibly of a certain
financial standing. Nothing is really known about qualifications for

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492 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

citizenship, especially whether artisans may have been excluded.
Although Aristotle, in discussing the principle of this class sharing in
citizenship (Po/. 111.1277 b 33 ff), concluded that the best form of state
will not make a banausus (‘attisan’) a citizen, unfortunately he does not
specifically refer to Carthage, while it is somewhat hazardous to general-
ize from the fact that after his capture of New Carthage in 209 B.c. Scipio
treated the artisans (xetporéyvac) among his prisoners differently from
the citizens (Polyb. x.16.1): a recently founded colony may well not have
reflected all the features of its centuries-old mother-city. Carthage,
however, is perhaps unlikely to have been liberal in granting her fran-
chise: since she employed few citizen soldiers, there was little military
inducement to generosity, while she was far from liberal in her dealings
‘with her allies. Whatever its composition, the assembly was theoretically
strongest in the electoral field, but it probably had no judicial authority
and met but seldom except for elections: the senate is likely to have
remitted to it only referenda on very serious matters. Aristotle also
records (Po/. 11.1272 b 33-4) that the citizens were divided into groups
which met for common meals (ta ovacitia tHv éraipiwv) like the
‘messes’ ($tdi71a) at Sparta. These may have had some political as well as
social or religious i importance, but any comparison with Greek phratriai
or Roman curiae — or indeed, in any detail, with Spartan phiditia— is purely
hypothetical.
Polybius and Cato might see in Carthage, as in Sparta and Rome, a
mixed constitution of royal, aristocratic and popular power, but the three
elements were not equally balanced, and effective power rested with an
oligarchy, as both Aristotle and Isocrates recognized.4 The original
Phoenician settlers may have formed an aristocracy of birth but com-
mercial and industrial activities probably transformed them into an aris-
tocracy of wealth. This in turn may have become somewhat exclusive:
the leaders of the state known to history belong to a remarkably small
number of families; and their names, which recur in many generations,
comprise only a very small proportion of the names revealed by Punic
inscriptions. How far this oligarchy tried to exclude ‘outsiders’ and how
far it was weakened by a division of interest between commercial and
agricultural interests must remain uncertain. As to its exclusiveness, it is
likely that successful wealthy businessmen could win an entry, and in fact
the great Barca family, which emerged in the third century B.c., seems to
have been a new family. The needs of a growing population and the
attractiveness of the hinterland may have led many Carthaginians to turn
to agriculture, and a class of large landowners who cultivated their

* Polyb. vi.s1.2; Cato ap. Serv. Aen. 1v.682; Aristotle, Po/. 11.1272 b 24ff, esp. 1273 a 134;
Isocrates, Nicocles 24: KapxnSovious . . . oixor dAcyapxoupévous.

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE 493

estates with slave labour emerged. Such men, it has been suggested,
became so involved in their estates that from the fourth century they
tended to leave the pursuit of commerce to others, and indeed that this
division of interest was reflected in the political field, with the sufetes and
senate representing them, while the commercial interests were
championed in the One Hundred and Four and the Pentarchies.5 But
such a dichotomy is probably over-schematic: clashes of interest there
may have been, but many men may have had a foot in both camps.

Behind the facade of the constitution lurked an all-pervading influ-
ence: money. Aristotle (Po/. 11.1273 a 35ff) criticized the Carthaginians
for making the highest offices, those of king and general, open to simple
purchase (wvyrds), while Polybius in contrasting Roman and
Carthaginian attitudes to wealth writes (v1.56.1—4) that ‘at Carthage
nothing that results in gain is disgraceful. . . candidates for office obtain
it by open bribery (¢avepds)’. Punic greed was traditional: indeed
Polybius (1x.25) tells how Massinissa personally discussed with him ‘the
love of money shown by the Carthaginians in general’. Candidates for
office may well have been required to possess a fixed minimum of wealth:
at any rate votes had to be bought and success paid for. Corruption
appears to have increased in the later days of Carthage until Hannibal
(who himself was taunted by his enemies with the national weakness)
with popular support struck at the power of the oligarchs and cleansed
the administration by constitutional and financial reforms. But this was
over six hundred years after the traditional date of the founding of the
city. The constitution had certainly shown the stability which attracted
Greek and Roman attention: despite some attacks from within, in
general it had withstood the tensions that had produced temporary
tyrannies and séasis in so many Greek states. This it owed not least to the
fact that the primary interest of so many of its citizens was money-
making rather than politics: they were quite prepared in the main to leave
the direction of affairs to the few, provided peace and prosperity were
secured,

At the height of her power Carthage needed a strong army and navy to
safeguard her far-flung interests. The original founders of the city, which
was built on a defensible peninsula, required a relatively small citizen
militia which was no doubt trained and equipped like the forces of
Phoenician Tyre. But as the Carthaginians gradually acquired an ever-
widening control in North Africa and in the lands of the western
Mediterranean, the strain of maintaining an army as wellas a fleet created
an unacceptable drain on her limited manpower, and in any case the

5 (Melezer and) Kahrstedt 1879-1913[K83], 111.1 38ff, 582ff; rejected by Groag 1929[K 53], 18f.

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494 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

average citizen preferred trading to fighting, and only accepted war as a
means of protecting the city and its commerce. Thus from the time of
Mago in the mid-sixth century, the Carthaginians decided to use part of
the wealth derived from their lands and trade to employ others to fight
for them; in this way their economic prosperity would not be disrupted
by periods of military service. The phasing out of the citizens was
gradual: some are still found serving on expeditions to Sicily in the fifth
and fourth centuries, and in 3 39 an elite corps of some 3000 Carthaginian
citizens, called by the Greeks ‘The Sacred Band’, makes its appearance,
but after 311 citizens did not serve in the ranks in war outside Africa.
When the homeland of Carthage itself was threatened, either by invasion
(as by Agathocles, Regulus or Scipio) or by disturbances in Africa (as in
the Mercenary War), levies of Carthaginians were naturally raised.
Further, armies serving overseas continued to be commanded by
Carthaginian officers. When occasion demanded, the Carthaginians
could fight with great tenacity and the city produced many fine com-
manders. But military service was obviously not popular and for the
most part armies were raised only for specific needs or expeditions,
though garrisons were kept where required.

Thus the armies of Carthage came to consist primarily of three groups:
native peoples in territory dominated by Carthage, in Africa, Spain and
Sardinia, who were compelled to offer military service; secondly, merce-
naries who were enrolled under contract to serve for a given campaign;
thirdly, and of lesser importance, were contingents of auxiliaries fur-
nished by friends or allies of the Carthaginian state. The subjects received
pay, as naturally did the mercenaries; possibly the allies also. The amount
will have varied, since a light-armed Ligurian or a conscripted African
will not have received as much as a Greek serving as a hoplite. A corn
ration was also granted: this is mentioned at the end of the fifth century
(Diod. x111.88.2), while the mercenaries who revolted after the First
Punic War claimed arrears of rations (otrojerpia: Polyb. 1.68.9) as well as
of pay. Mercenaries are first mentioned in the army which Hamilcar
commanded at Himera in Sicily in 480; it consisted of Phoenicians,
Libyans, Iberians, Ligurians, Sardinians and Corsicans. At this time the
Libyans may have been mercenaries, but soon afterwards as Carthaginian
power spread in North Africa they became conscripts and formed one of
the most important elements in the army: thus of the troops in Sicily in
311 B.C., said to be 40,000 strong, Libyans formed a quarter (Diod.
XIX.106.2). They served both as light infantry, especially useful for quick
raids, and also, suitably armed, as infantry of the line where they
distinguished themselves not least in later battles such as Cannae. In
preparation for a campaign against the Sicilian Greeks at the end of the
fifth century the Carthaginian generals summoned contingents from

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE 495

allied African peoples: Moors, Numidians and Cyrenaeans; the
Numidian cavalry was particularly useful in the campaigns of Hannibal.
Large numbers of Iberians served in the wars in Sicily against Greeks
and, later, Romans; before the conquests of Hamilcar Barca in Spain,
they will have been mainly mercenaries rather than subjects; the
Celtiberians, who remained independent of Carthage, also provided
some mercenaries in later times (e.g. 4000 at the battle of Campi Magni in
203). These Spanish troops, like the Libyans, were valuable for quick-
moving guerrilla tactics and as light-armed cavalry. Corsicans and the
Balearic Islanders, who were trained from childhood as slingers and were
said to be paid in women rather than in cash, served as mercenaries, not as
subjects, e.g. in 406 and 311 (Diod. xm1.80.2; xrx.106.2). The status of
Sardinians must have depended on whether or not they came from those
parts of the island controlled by Carthage. Ligurians, Celts (first men-
tioned about 340, they were often courageous, impetuous and fickle
fighters), Campanians, who were also regarded as unreliable but ex-
tremely effective (e.g. in 410: Diod. xt1t.55.7), and Etruscans (mentioned
only once, in 311: Diod. x1x.106.2) are also among the mercenaries, while
even Greeks in Sicily sometimes deserted their national cause to fight for
the Carthaginians (e.g. in 409, 398, 343, while the help given by the
Spartan Xanthippus in 255 is famous). But Greeks, Celts and Italians
were probably employed only ona relatively small scale: the bulk of the
Carthaginian army was formed by the native peoples of the western
Mediterranean lands.

Such diverse units could not be welded into a completely uniform
structure; they served as national or tribal groups, each commanded by
its own leaders under the overall command of Carthage whose own
citizens continued to supply the senior officers. To a large extent they
retained their national arms and armour and manner of fighting, though
when they were employed as heavy-infantry of the line, Carthage may
well have supplied their weapons. Methods of fighting depended on the
opponents: lighter troops would be employed against the native peoples
of Africa and Spain during the years of expansion, but against Greek and
Roman armies the Carthaginians fought hoplite battles on normal lines,
with variations devised by the skill of the generals, culminating in the
resourceful genius of Hannibal. Two special armaments were used at
different times: chariots and elephants. War-chariots were used in the
wars of the fourth century in considerable numbers (according to Diod.
XVI.67, in 345 B.c. three hundred four-horse chariots and two thousand
two-horse chariots were deployed, though these figures may be
doubted). Their use however was discontinued before the Carthaginians
crossed swords with the Romans, when greater importance was given to
cavalry, and elephants were brought into service. These were African

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496 11. CARTHAGE AND ROME

elephants, who were captured in the hinterland of the coast of North
Africa; they were smaller than both the great Bush elephant of equatorial
Africa and Indian elephants. In battle they did not carry ‘towers’ and they
often proved two-edged weapons, running amock and doing damage to
their own side as well as to the enemy, but extremely formidable on
occasion.

The use of native subjects and of mercenaries enabled Carthage to
extend her colonial empire, and it also minimized the disastrous results of
any defeats, since these involved the shedding of little Carthaginian
blood. Though the native Africans might become discontented and a
potential danger, the mercenaries on the whole fought well and bravely
as professionals, even when they were faced by other mercenaries such as
those employed by Dionysius or Agathocles. But pay and booty could
not always produce the same results as ardent patriotism, while any delay
in payment or better offers from others might lead to unrest or desertion.
Further, diversity of race, language and customs made co-operation
difficult. Many soldiers had little contact with Carthage itself, except
perhaps when they were enrolled or discharged, but served mainly
overseas. Hence their attachment might centre on their Carthaginian
commander, who could on occasion be tempted to use their loyalty to
help him challenge the Carthaginian state, as for instance Bomilcar did in
308 B.C. But for the most part Carthage managed to restrain ambitious
generals, who were sometimes hampered by mutual rivalry and jealousy,
while they were subjected to control by the One Hundred and Four and
might face crucifixion as the penalty even for military failure, let alone for
revolt. The potential weakness of the use of mercenaries can be exagger-
ated. When well-led they served Carthage efficiently and when a general
of genius welded them together into a cohesive fighting force they
provided Hannibal with one of the great armies of antiquity. Nor should
the valour of the Carthaginian citizens, when forced to fight, be forgot-
ten: with their lives at stake in the three years of siege which ended in the
final destruction of 146 B.c., they displayed unsurpassed tenacity and
courage. Virgil sums up the national character of Carthage (Aen. 1.14):
dives opum studiisque asperrima belli (‘rich in resources and ferocious
in the pursuits of war’).

The Carthaginians had arrived at the site of their city in ships, and
throughout their history they needed ships, both merchantmen for their
commerce and warships to help establish and safeguard their colonial
ventures and to maintain the widening monopoly which they asserted in
western waters. Derived from the naval traditions of their Phoenician
ancestors, their skill at sea, exemplified not least by their daring voyages
of exploration in the stormy waters of the Atlantic, was widely recog-
nized by Greeks and Romans. The size of their navy was determined by

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the numbers of enemy ships that faced them at different times: in 398 B.c.,
for instance, Dionysius of Syracuse, who had a fleet of more than 310
vessels, sent some 200 of them against Punic Motya. Carthaginian fleets
varying between 200 and 270 ships are mentioned during the fourth
century, and some 200 may well be the kind of effective force that
Carthage liked to keep in being, though not necessarily afloat: when not
needed, some would be laid up. Appian (Pun. 96), following Polybius,
says that the inner naval harbour at Carthage (Fig. 56) contained ship-
sheds for 220 vessels and this figure is borne out in general terms by
recent excavations in the circular harbour area: the admiral’s island in the
centre was equipped with 30 sheds, while the outer circuit, apparently
over 1100 metres in length, was sufficient for about another 160 sheds.®
The type of ships used probably followed roughly the same pattern as in
Greek construction: pentecontors, then triremes, and later quinque-
remes (the quadrireme was invented by the Carthaginians, according to
Aristotle (apad Plin. HN vut.z07) and Clement of Alexandria (Strom.
1.16.75), while the Punic admiral at Mylae used as his flagship a hepteres
which had been captured from Pyrrhus in 276). By the time of the wars
with Rome, the quinquereme was the favoured vessel: thus the fleet left
by Hannibal in Spain consisted of 50 quinqueremes, 2 quadriremes and 5
triremes. The discovery of a wrecked Punic ship off Lilybaeum, perhaps
a Liburnian, has thrown much light on constructional methods: it was
carvel built, the ribs being inserted into the already assembled planks; the
keel was of maple, the ribs of oak and the planking of pine; the ram was
encased in bronze, and the hull covered with lead sheeting. It was some
35 m. long and 5 m. wide (the ship-sheds at Carthage, for quinqueremes,
were 5.9m.).’

The complement of a quinquereme, according to the numbers attri-
buted to the Roman vessels at Ecnomus in 256 B.c., consisted of 300
rowers and 120 soldiers: thus a fleet of 200 ships required no less than
60,000 rowers. They were presumably normally raised at Carthage itself
and perhaps the Libyphoenician cities, but could be supplemented from
subject peoples (thus the Barcid Mago in 206 received some from the
Balearic Islands), while Hasdrubal, awaiting the subsequent Roman
invasion of Africa of 204, bought 5000 slaves for use as rowers. In a sea-
faring people there would be no shortage of pilots and captains, while no
doubt the higher commands were reserved for the Carthaginian aristo-
cracy: in general there was no sharp distinction between admirals and
generals, since land and sea forces are found under the same commander.
Thanks to this fleet Carthage was enabled to withstand constant pressure

6 Hurst 1976(K62], 177-97; 1977[K6z], 232-61.
7 Frost 1972[K46}, 113ff; 1973[K47}, 220 ff.

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498

It. CARTHAGE AND ROME

Z2kilometres

MEGARA

a
CARTHAGE f

¥Circular Harbour

TophetO] [Rectangular Harbour

Mole
(Falbe’s Quadrilateral)

Lake of Tunis

Fig. 36. Carthage (after Huss 1985 [K6s5], 45).

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE 499

from the Greeks by sea and land and to repel or sink any intruders in
western waters, where she had no other rival competitors: she was allied
both to the Etruscans, whose power was gradually declining, and to the
Romans, who were so indifferent to her expansion that in the fourth
century they readily recognized by a treaty a wider extension of the Punic
mare clausum (pp. 52Gff).

(b) City and empire

The site of the city (Fig. 56) resembled that of many other Phoenician
settlements. It lay on a triangular peninsula which projected eastwards
into the Mediterranean; the narrow isthmus, which linked it to the
mainland in the west, was bounded on the north by the sea (now Lake
Sebka Er Riana) and on the south by the Lake of Tunis. This strong
position was backed by a fertile hinterland. The citadel, named Byrsa, lay
on ahill (St Louis) some 200 feet high and less than a mile from the sea. In
the first centuries of its history the town’s general appearance presum-
ably resembled that of Tyre and other Phoenician cities, as represented
on the reliefs of Sennacherib: above turreted walls rose up the top storeys
of the houses, some having balustrades supported by small palm-shaped
columns. The houses at Tyre had even more storeys than those at Rome
according to Strabo (xvi.2.23, p. 757 C), while the houses between the
forum and Byrsa at Carthage in 146 B.c. had no less than six storeys (App.
Pun. 28). Gradually Carthage will have approximated more closely to the
cities of the Hellenistic world. But so thorough was the Roman destruc-
tion of the city in 146 that very little of Punic Carthage survives, though
its general lay-out is known from literary references and archaeological
investigation, not least that conducted under the auspices of the
UNESCO ‘Save Carthage Project’.

The city walls were so strong that they deterred Agathocles from
attacking them and held at bay the Roman assault for three years. They
were said to have been 37km. in length, including presumably the
stretches along the coast. The strongest part was the length across the
isthmus, with four-storeyed towers at intervals of 55-65 m.: within the
walls were said to be stables for 300 elephants, and store-houses and
barracks for 20,000 infantry and 4000 cavalry. In front of the wall was an
intermediate rampart and a ditch backed by a palisade; this was identified
from the air in 1949 and proved to consist of an outer ditch 20 m. wide
and an inner ditch 5.3 m., with post-holes for a palisade in between. The
Byrsa hill and its neighbourhood were surrounded by a separate wall,
some two miles in circumference. In the absence of any surviving
stretches of these Punic walls, their date and development remain
uncertain, but the system was probably strengthened perhaps from the

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§oo II. CARTHAGE AND ROME

time of the First Punic War. The skill of the Carthaginians in fortification
and the appearance of some of the walls of the city itself are doubtless
reflected in parts of the walls of Selinus which were constructed in the last
years of the fourth century when the city was becoming more Punic than
Greek, while the fortifications at Lilybaeum, though known only
fragmentarily, are certainly Punic.§ At Carthage after about the fifth
century the whole of the peninsula within the walls may have been
inhabited, but not in equal density: the quarter in the north-west named
Megara contained orchards, gardens and scattered houses.

The harbours of Carthage formed the centre of her economic life. The
outer rectangular commercial harbour and the inner circular naval
harbour, described by Appian, have long been identified with the
surviving ‘lagoons’, and after decades of debate their character is now
being revealed by excavation. The word ‘Cothon’, which strictly applied
to the naval harbour, was loosely used for the whole complex. As we
have seen (p. 497), Appian’s description of the splendid naval harbour
has recently been confirmed in general terms (though perhaps not
applicable before the late fourth century), with its thirty ship-sheds
radiating from the central admiral’s islet and the rest built around the
outer circuit: “two Ionic columns stood in front of each shed, giving the
appearance of a continuous portico to both the harbour and the island’.
From his central tower the admiral could get a clear view to sea and issue
orders, while a double wall surrounded the harbour so that activities
within could not be seen from outside, even from the commercial
harbour. The early history of the circular harbour is still uncertain, but
radical changes were made in the fourth century, after which first timber
and then stone ship-sheds and other installations were provided.? The
entrance to the harbours was in the south, and east of the entrance a large
stone structure (choma), called by archaeologists ‘Falbe’s quadrilateral’,
sheltered the entrance and provided a massive quay for merchant ship-
ping: over 300 yards of it survive underwater.

Between the harbours and the Byrsa lay the main public square: its
early lay-out may not have closely resembled a Greek agora or a Roman
forum, but it was probably regularized in the fifth or later centuries. Here
was the senate-house, outside which the judges (s#fetes) administered
justice in the open air; three very narrow streets, lined by six-storeyed
houses, led up to the Byrsa. Temples and shrines were numerous and
varied greatly in appearance. Many shrines followed the traditional

8 Isthmus wall: Duval 1950 (K35], 53-9. Selinus: Winter 1971(K207], 120f; 230f; Martin
1977{K8o], 61f; de la Geniére 1977[Ks52], 251ff. Lilybaeum: Frederiksen 1977[B328], 74f.
9 See Hurst 1975[K62], 11-40; 1976[K62}, 177-97; 1977[K62], 232-61.

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE jol

Phoenician and Canaanite form: small sacred enclosures (sophets), marked
by stones or ste/ae; these in some way represented the deity, which could
not be embodied in graven images. The most ancient and revered sophet,
dating from the eighth century, was that of Tanit in the area of Salambo
near the rectangular harbour: it consisted of a chamber only about a
metre square, in front of which was an almost equally small courtyard
with an altar; this shrine was reached through three concentric curved
walls. In its precinct offerings and funerary monuments, as altars, urns
and ste/ae, continued to be provided throughout the Punic period. The
idea of giving the gods more elaborate dwelling-places gradually in-
creased under Egyptian and then Greek influences. Thus a ste/e of the end
of the fourth century from Hadrumetum (Sousse) depicts Baal Hammon
enthroned in an Egyptian-like temple, while Carthaginians serving in
Sicily became more familiar with Greek temple architecture. The temple
of Demeter and Kore, built in 396, must surely have been Greek in form.
The Salambo chapel, discovered in 1916, retained an older design, but
the decoration was Greek. The richest temple in the city in 146 B.c. was
that of Eshmun which crowned the Byrsa and was approached by a flight
of sixty steps; here the last defenders rallied. When the Romans plun-
dered the temple of Apollo, they found the god’s statue, covered with
gold, in a shrine of beaten gold, weighing 1000 talents.

Several cemeteries lay within the city, their locations marking its
expansion. The predominant rite was inhumation, but cremation ap-
peared alongside it in the eighth-seventh centuries, and then after a long
lapse reappeared in the third. Richer burials were made in coffins laid in
underground chambers (sometimes superimposed) which were reached
by vertical shafts with footholds cut in the sides; these might reach a
depth of 7.6 org m. Alternatively, built chambers might be set in shallow
cuttings, with access by a dromos or by a staircase as at Cap Bon. Thus,
unlike many Greek and Roman cemeteries, those at Carthage were
comparatively inconspicuous, although in later times a funerary monu-
ment might be built above the burials. Four anthropomorphic coffins
survive at Carthage, two showing bearded priests, and one a priestess, in
which Egyptian and Hellenistic influences combine.

The district around the forum and harbours, which contained living-
quarters as well as public buildings, was the heart of the bustling
commercial and industrial life of the city. On the southern slope of the
Byrsa hill part of a residential quarter of the Hellenistic period has been
uncovered: the straight but narrow streets separated rectangular insulae
of dwellings (at least in the third and second centuries) and were
provided with sewers; flights of steps gave access to the higher ground.
The houses were simple, with square or rectangular rooms and stuccoed

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jo2 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

walls.!° They resemble the houses discovered in the 1950s in the
Carthaginian town at Dar Essafi near Kerkouane on Cap Bon, which
flourished from the fifth century until its destruction, either by Regulus
in 256 or by the Romans in 146.!! Here the walls were made of unbaked
brick, resting on local stone foundations, but strong enough to carry
several storeys; outside they were white-washed, broken only by a door
to the street, while inside was a central courtyard. In one such courtyard
nine columns of a peristyle survive. The rooms had pink cement floors,
inlaid with fragments of white marble or broken glass, and some houses
had bath-rooms. Two-storey houses are represented on a fourth-century
painting in a tomb at Cap Bon which shows a town surrounded by a
turreted wall; the strongly-built houses depicted within vary in size and
each is crowned by a columned loggia, above which are rows of
rounded arches, or perhaps cupolas. These houses, with flat or vaulted
roofs, probably looked much like those of modern Tunisia and they
indicate in the Hellenistic period a considerable degree of comfort in a
town which owed its prosperity to purple-dye workers and fishermen.
There is little evidence for street-planning, and the public buildings have
not yet been found, but there were good sewers and drains. At Carthage
the water-supply derived from a spring in the north at the ‘Fountain of
the 1000 amphorae’, and from many cisterns which though surviving in
Roman form had a Punic origin.

Any estimate of the population of Carthage must be extremely hazard-
ous, since we do not know what reliance to put on Strabo’s figure of
700,000 for the population in 149 B.c. (xvII.3.15, p. 833 C) nor to what
area of the city it should apply. On the basis of a suggested 114 hectares
U. Kahrstedt estimated 125—130,000 souls, whereas K. J. Beloch reck-
oned nearly double that figure.!2 Whether 700,000 has any validity if the
population of Cap Bon and the rest of the chora is included, is quite
uncertain. Army figures, themselves not always above suspicion, refer to
45,000 men hurriedly raised to meet Agathocles’ unexpected invasion at
the end of the fourth century (Diod. xx.10.8); during the Truceless War
Carthage raised two armies of 10,000 each; during the last siege

10 Byrsa houses: C. Picard 1951~2[Kg9], 117-26; Ferron and Pinard 1955[K4o], 31-81;
1960-1[K 42], 77-170; G. C. Picard 1958[K104], 21ff; Harden 1962[K58], 135—G. The recent French
excavations have confirmed the late-Punic dating of these houses (Lancel 1977[K76], 19ff) and
revealed an extension of this built-up area on the southern slope of the Byrsa hill (Carrié and Sanviti
1977[K18], 67M). See also S. Lancel, G. Robine and J.-P. Thuillier in New Light on Ancient Carthage
1980[Kg3], 13ff: the area appears to have been a cemetery until ¢. 500 and then remained unused until
occupied by iron-workers (¢. 250-200); then came peace, prosperity and urban development. The
houses appear to have risen at least two or three stories, but evidence is lacking for Appian’s six
stories (Pan. 128).

"| Cap Bon: Cintas 195 3[K26], 256—Go; G.C. and C. Picard 1961[K113], 46f, pl. 1; Warmington
1969[K135], 132£; Morel 1969{K84], 473-518; Fantar 1972-3[K39], 264-77.

12 (Meltzer and) Kahrstedt 1879-191 3(K83], 111.23f; Beloch 1886[Gio], 467.

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE 503

Hasdrubal commanded 30,000 combatants (App. Pan. 120), while an-
other force was in the surrounding country; at the end of the siege 50,000
men and women survivors surrendered on the Byrsa (App. Pan. 130).
Guesswork might suggest a total population, including slaves, of some
200,000 at this time, and perhaps nearly double this at the time of
Carthage’s greatest prosperity. In fact we really know little more than
that Carthage became one of the great cities of the Hellenistic world,
both in population and public building.

A large population had been made possible only by the acquisition of
considerable territory in North Africa which helped to feed the capital
city (Maps 11 and 12). This expansion, which occurred especially from
the fifth century onwards, cannot be traced in detail but by the time of
Agathocles’ invasion it appears to have included the coastal plain behind
Hadrumetum and reached south-westwards as far as Dougga. The land
nearest the city, including the Cap Bon peninsula where many rich
Carthaginians had estates, probably was considered city land, while the
inhabitants of the Mejerda (=anc. Bagradas) valley were subjected to
taxation and conscription and came to be called Libyans, by a restricted
application of this word. At times Carthage exercised some control over
the tribes of Numidia and further west and by the beginning of the fourth
century she dominated the coast of North Africa from the Atlantic to
Cyrenaica where she established numerous settlements or took over
earlier Phoenician colonies. Lepcis, Oea, Sabrata, Hadrumetum, Utica
(traditionally founded before Carthage itself, and enjoying a privileged
relationship of alliance), Hippo Diarrhytus, Hippo Regius, Rusuccuru,
Rusaddir, Tingi, and on the Atlantic coast, Lixus and Mogador —all came
under Punic control, and beyond there the hand of Carthage stretched to
southern Spain, Sardinia and western Sicily. The inhabitants of these
African towns (called Libyphoenicians by the Greeks who later extended
the term to those natives who had absorbed soine Phoenician culture)
were probably bound to Carthage by separate treaties and enjoyed a
privileged status; Polybius (vii.9.5) says that they had the same laws as
the Carthaginians, meaning probably the same civil rights, with local
officials and constitutions, thus perhaps approximating to the status of
Latins vis-a-vis Rome (at any rate they had the right of intermarriage,
émtyapia: Diod. xx.55.4). On these Libyphoenicians Carthage imposed
some direct taxes and dues on imports and exports, as well as the
requirement of military service, including probably rowers for the fleet
(Lepcis is said by Livy xxxiv.62.3 to have paid no less than a talent a day
in the second century, but perhaps this vast sum represents the tax of a
large area which was gathered together at Lepcis). Her increasing control
was shown when in her second treaty with Rome Carthage disallowed
the somewhat wider trade in Africa recognized under her first treaty:

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504 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

now all such commerce had to be channelled through Carthage itself (see
p. 527£). The Libyphoenicians seem to have accepted their subordinate
position, helped no doubt by their ties of common race, language and
religion — if the absence of revolt indicates lack of will rather than of
means.

The Libyans on the other hand were treated more harshly. Their
tribute may have amounted to a quarter of their crops (in the First Punic
War they had to pay half: Polyb. 1.72) and they provided many soldiers
who at least in later times may have received some payment as well as
booty. Visiting Carthaginian officials no doubt ensured prompt fulfil-
ment of their obligations, acting possibly under orders from regular
governors (orparnyo/). In other respects as long as they remained
peaceful they were probably left to live their own lives under their own
chiefs in their little settlements and they were doubtless reasonably
prosperous (some may even have employed slaves), but they hated their
masters and revolted several times from the fourth century onwards.
According to Polybius the Carthaginians admired and honoured the
governors who exacted the greatest amount of supplies and treated the
inhabitants ruthlessly, rather than those that treated the subjects with
moderation and humanity. True, the Libyans for the most part were
culturally very inferior to their masters (though some gained sufficient
acquaintance with Punic civilization to be classed loosely as
Libyphoenicians), but Carthage seems to have made little effort to win
their loyalty. By a more generous policy to the defeated peoples of Italy
the Romans built up a strong confederacy: Carthage had to pay the price
for her lack of understanding. Her hand rested perforce somewhat more
lightly on the Numidians further west: some of their chiefs might be
regarded as allies, but they were in fact ‘client princes’ and had to offer
troops, especially cavalry, and other services when required.

The grip of Carthage on her overseas dependencies is harder to assess.
By the third century s.c. Carthage had turned to the aggressive acquisi-
tion of a land empire and the creation of the administrative means of
governing the territories that she had conquered, but in her early days
her moves overseas were clearly directed to establishing and protecting
her commerce rather than to acquiring land for its own sake. Her policy
in the centuries between has been variously assessed. In western Sicily for
example the Phoenician and Elymian cities at first retained their own
institutions and during the fifth century were allowed the right to issue
coins, but when at the end of that century Carthage conquered some of
the Greek cities we hear of a Carthaginian émexpdreca in the island. But
does this imply a province with the imposition of tribute (perhaps a tithe
on produce) and Carthaginian garrisons in some cities, or merely a
‘sphere of influence’? It is not feasible to discuss the question in any detail

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE $05

here, beyond noting a recent reaction against the more ‘imperialist’
interpretation of Carthaginian policy in this period. It has been argued
that in the early Classical period Carthage did not annex cities in the
western Phoenician orbit but considered the securing of trading rights in
emporia more important than the acquisition of territory. These were
ports where either Carthaginian traders settled and operated under
licence of a foreign power (e.g. Carthaginians in Syracuse or Acragas) or
which were under Carthaginian control (including Carthage itself) with
trade conducted under the eyes of state officials (e.g. in Libya and
Sardinia, as under the first treaty with Rome: below, p. 521f). Clearly it
was in the interest of Carthage to extend the latter class of emporia by
negotiating new treaties. Further, Carthage sought control, not in order
to limit but rather to increase the number of traders who came to her
ports, where she offered protection and fair trading, with the exclusion
of undesirable foreigners. However, the balance of such agreements of
reciprocity, which started as treaties between equals, often began to
swing in favour of the greater power.!3

Trading conditions may gradually have stiffened. Thus the trade
allowed to the Romans in Libya and Sardinia in the first treaty (509) was
denied to them in the second (348), although they were still allowed in the
Punic area in Sicily as well as at Carthage itself where the trader received
the same rights as a Carthaginian citizen. In the second treaty Carthage
extended her commercial monopoly to south-west Spain, where some of
the natives had probably been reduced to subjection and the rest com-
mercially exploited for many years. But even after the conquests of the
Barcids in the third century the Carthaginians avoided direct administra-
tion there as far as possible: a show of force and the exaction of hostages
secured the obedience of tribal chiefs and the prompt supply of money
and troops. But before this more aggressive imperialism of the third
century Carthage sought to secure peace, the necessary background for a
flourishing commerce, and one way of promoting this was by the
establishment of good personal relationships. Thus powerful
Carthaginian families might intermarry with Greeks (e.g. Mago ¢. 500
B.C. married a Syracusan), while others established formal ties of hospi-
tality (xenia) by the exchange of tesserae (tokens). (So in 357 the Punic
governor at Heraclea Minoa was a guest-friend of the Syracusan Dion,
and a private token of guest-friendship (éessera hospitalis) between a
Carthaginian and a Greek has been found at Lilybaeum.!4) Indeed this
policy was continued even in the later days of more aggressive empire-
building: both Hasdrubal and Hannibal married Spanish wives, but by

'3 Whittaker 1978{K 137], 59-90.
4 See Plut. Dion 25. Tessera: IG xtv.279, on which see Masson 1976{K81], 93f.

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506 11. CARTHAGE AND ROME

that time a fully-fledged provincial system of government was being
developed to control the ‘empire’, at least in Africa.'5

The wealth of Carthage was proverbial. A Syracusan speaker, according
to Thucydides (v1.34.2), stated that she possessed ‘an abundance of gold
and silver’, and nearly three hundred years later Polybius said (xv11t. 35.9)
that at the time of her fall Carthage, even after the loss of Spain, was
reckoned the wealthiest city in the world (woAvypnyoveorarn). Over the
years her fortunes fluctuated wildly but her phenomenal powers of
economic recovery were attested by her offer in 191 B.c. to pay off the
remaining forty years’ balance of her war-debt to Rome only ten years
after incurring this burden and after the loss of the Spanish mines. The
sources of her prosperity are obvious: the agricultural and mineral
wealth of homeland and empire (including gold from western or central
Africa and silver from Spain), the energy displayed by her citizens in
developing her overseas trade, whether as carrier of foreign-made goods
or exporter of the products of her own industry and agriculture, and the
exploitation of the manpower of her empire. But we are ill-informed
about the management of the state finances. Expenditure on the civil
administration was probably not very large (magistracies were appar-
ently honorary), but included public building and religious responsibil-
ities (she sent an annual tribute to the mother-city of Tyre, at first
allegedly a tenth of her revenue: Diod. xx.14.2); she paid large sums to
her mercenaries and other troops and maintained a large navy; and after
frequent defeats she often had to pay heavy war-indemnities (e.g. 2000
talents after Himera in 480 B.c. and 2200 after the First Punic War). To
meet these expenses Carthage levied taxes on her subjects and probably
on the Libyphoenicians but apparently did not normally lay any direct
tax on her own citizens, who in later days seem to have been free from this
burden as well as that of military service except in times of emergency:
thus in 196 B.c. when Hannibal reformed the administration, the poor
state of the public finances threatened to impose a fributum.'6 Details of
indirect taxation, which must have been pervasive and complex, escape
us: references, such as ‘vectigalia quanta terrestria maritimaque’ (‘the
amount raised by the land and sea revenues’) in relation to 196 B.c. (Livy
XXXIII.47.1), are very vague (they will scarcely have been less than the
one million drachmas which Rhodes derived from customs-duties ¢. 170

1S Administration in Africa: G.C. Picard 1966[K 109], 1257-65.

16 ‘tributum grave privatis imminere videbatur’ (Livy xxx111.46.9; cf. 47.2), but to meet the shock
of the first payment of the Roman indemnity ¢. 201 B.c. ‘tributum ex privato conferendum est’ (‘tax
had to be paid from private resources’: Livy xxx.44.11).

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE 5O7

B.c.: Polyb. xxx.31.12). Nor can we assess the extent of corruption in
earlier years, though Hannibal’s reforms reveal an ugly state of affairs in
the early second century. Fines and confiscations provided a minor
source of revenue: thus in the First Punic War Hanno had to pay 6000
pieces of gold as the price of military incompetence (Diod. xx11.9.2: he
was lucky to have escaped crucifixion), while the estates of Hamilcar
were confiscated in 200 B.c. (Livy xxx1.19.1).

The late adoption of the Greek practice of coining money by the
Carthaginians has often caused surprise. Since they were such keen
businessmen, they must be presumed to have assessed their own interests
and concluded that the nature of their trade would not have benefited by
following the Greek example until a fairly late date. Apart from the coins
that she allowed Punic settlements in western Sicily to issue, Carthage
did not issue her own coins until ¢. 410 B.c. and then not for commercial
reasons but for payment of her troops in Sicily. The occasion was
probably when she decided to intervene to help Segesta against Selinus.
The coins, which were probably minted at Carthage itself, carry as
legends the city-name (QRTHDST) and MHNT, ie. the camp or
military head-quarters; the types (Fig. 5 7a) are horse and (reverse) palm-
tree (it is uncertain whether the palm (phoenix) is a pun on ‘Phoenician’
(or ‘Punic’) or else an emblem of fertility only). This series ceased ¢. 390
B.c. and Carthage only resumed her minting ¢. 350 B.c. when she started
to produce a prolific gold coinage; for the Siculo-Punic silver, the mint
was probably transferred to Sicily, and the type changed to head of Tanit
and (reverse) horse and palm-tree (Fig. 57b). At this time (350-340)

Fig. 57a. Carthaginian coin with forepart of horse, corn grain and legend QRTHDST on
obverse, palm tree with legend MHNT on reverse (¢. 410-390 B.C.).

Fig. 57b. Carthaginian silver coin with female head (of Tanit?) and legend QRTHDST on
obverse, horse walking in front of palm tree on reverse (¢. 350-340 B.C.).

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508 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

Carthage was facing the challenge of a Greek revival in Sicily under
Timoleon, and also negotiated her second treaty with Rome: she was
‘mobilizing herself to a more active policy concerning her whole strate-
gic position’ (G. K. Jenkins).!7 Coinage provided the sinews of war even
more than of commerce. In line with this slow emphasis on the economic
importance of coins and despite the volume of her trading Carthage does
not seem to have developed banking and trading systems to match those
of Hellenistic Alexandria or Rhodes.

As Carthaginian power extended in North Africa agriculture joined
commerce as one of the main sources of her economic life, but these need
not necessarily have been mutually exclusive pursuits and interests. Men
who had become rich through investing in commerce and industry may
well have regarded the acquisition of land chiefly as a further source of
wealth, the more so since they exploited the land by the use of slave
labour. True, Mago, who wrote twenty-eight books on agriculture,
seems to suggest a certain dichotomy when he urged that any one who
bought land should sell his town house, while ‘the man who takes greater
pleasure in his city residence will have no need of a country estate’
(Columella, Rust. 1.1.18). But while many Carthaginians may have
enjoyed country life and have appreciated their country houses in the
heat of the summer, perhaps few are likely to have devoted exclusive
attention to them, unsupported by some commercial interests. Despite
the use of slave labour, the country estates do not appear to have been
very large, but their prosperity impressed Agathocles’ invading troops:
well-irrigated gardens, luxurious country houses, covered with stucco,
well-stocked farm buildings, vines, olives, orchards, cattle, sheep and
horses (Diod. xx.8.3f), while later Regulus’ invading force captured
more than 20,000 slaves in the area of Aspis, just south of Cap Bon.
Beyond the area fairly close to Carthage itself, the cultivation of the
interior was left to the Libyans, whose main produce was grain, much of
which went to the capital as tribute. Whether or not the vine, olive, fig
and almond were first introduced into North Africa by the Phoenicians,
they were cultivated with skill, while the pomegranate (wala Punica)
became popular and the date-palm was advertised on the coinage, as was
the horse. In fact Polybius (x11.3.3£) doubted whether so large a number
of horses, oxen, sheep and goats could be found in the rest of the world.
These animals, together with fowls and pigeons, are sometimes depicted
on votive ste/ae, while the local bees were noted for their honey and wax, a
cera Punica being used for medicinal purposes. The ste/ae also show the
type of simple wooden plough used in cultivation, and Varro (Rast.

17 On this coinage see Jenkins 1971{K71], 25 ff; 1974[K72], 23ff; 1977[K73], 5ff (quotation from
1977, 6).

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE 509

1.52.1) records a special harvesting machine (plostellum Punicum). The
general success of Carthage in scientific agriculture is best attested by the
decision of the Roman senate that Mago’s work should be translated into
Latin and its subsequent popularity among a nation of farmers who
already possessed their own Cato’s work on agriculture.

Industry had to supply the basic needs of a large city and also to
provide a means of exchange in those areas overseas where money was
not used. While the state employed men, both free and slave, in the docks
and arsenals, most industry was in the hands of private citizens and was
ona small scale: evidence for large factories owned by the aristocracy is
lacking. A great variety of trades was followed. The carpenters and
wood-carvers of Carthage kept up the traditions of their Phoenician
ancestors who had worked the cedars of Lebanon and supplied Solomon
with craftsmen for building his temple. Punic skill is displayed especially
in ship-building and furniture; the Romans made mention of /ectuli
Puniciani (Punic couches) and fenestrae Punicianae (Punic windows), while
a head of Demeter, carved in cedar, was found on the Ste Monique
hill at Carthage. Their stone-masons, beside the main tasks of building
walls and houses, provided stone coffins and could draw on local
quarries: a large underground quarry at Cap Bon had exits on the
seashore to enable stone to be shipped direct across the bay to Carthage.
While much spinning and weaving was done at home, some was organ-
ized on a commercial scale, with a dozen or so slaves, to produce carpets,
cushions and embroideries, and also the eastern form of dress which the
Carthaginians inherited from the Phoenicians: the women seem to have
followed Greek fashions more readily than the men, who retained the
long coloured embroidered robes of their ancestors. The dyeing indus-
try, inherited from Tyre and Sidon, flourished at Carthage; at Dar Essafi
heaps of myrex shells and rock-cut vats show that it, together with
fishing, was the main industry of the town. Although good clay existed
in parts of the Carthaginian peninsula, Punic pottery remained plain and
utilitarian: the better pottery found in the tombs is all imported — from
Greece, Etruria and southern Italy. A potters’ quarter has been found in
the Dermech district of Carthage, containing an oven, still stacked with
its pots; it is 6 m. high, 4 m. being below ground level. The industry
aimed at mass production and cheapness, not at artistic merit. It provided
everyday objects, such as vases, amphorae and terracottas. These last
include the masks, both smiling and grimacing, of the seventh and sixth
centuries; the later Greek-style statuettes were often made by immigrant
Greek workmen. Although the Phoenicians were famed for their metal-
work, especially in bronze and copper, most of the bronze works of art
found at Carthage are of foreign manufacture. However, the copper
razors, often engraved with figures of deities or sacred symbols (p. 512),

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g10 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

were a typical product of the Carthaginian metal-workers, who also
mass-produced copies of Greek original bronze vases. Some of their
tools have been found in graves, others are depicted on ste/ae. Phoenician
gold and silver jewellery is found at Carthage, but probably not much of
real artistic merit was manufactured there. Carved ivory from the tusks
of African elephants decorated furniture or provided small objects such
as boxes, combs and hairpins, as also did bone on ahumbler scale. At first
some of these objects were imported from the East, but by the fourth
century at least Carthage was manufacturing her own. Another luxury
trade was in painted cups made from ostrich eggs. The discovery of a
glass-maker’s furnace at Dermech (of the fourth century or later) shows
that Carthage maintained something of the old Phoenician tradition of
making glass vessels and trinkets such as beads, scarabs and amulets.
Thus in general, although the Carthaginians had access to plentiful
supplies of raw material, especially metals, their lack of artistic talent, of
originality and of a creative interest in such work prevented the produc-
tion of many objects that would sell in overseas markets: their industry
mainly supplied the home market with the objects of daily life: more
artistic goods, for those who could afford and appreciate them, had to be
imported.

In the early centuries of her history, the overseas trade of Carthage had
fluctuated with the rise and fall of her political fortunes and had been
determined largely by her relations with Etruscans and Greeks. The
development of her commercial monopoly in the western Mediterranean
is described below in connexion with her treaties with Rome (pp. 5 20ff)
since these provide much of our detailed evidence for this expansion.
In the fifth century her overseas interests had contracted, but they
extended again in the fourth, especially after the break-up of Alexander’s
empire. Despite the extent of her trade, the surviving evidence is
woefully small, partly because some of the main goods handled, such as
slaves, textiles, crude metals and food-stuffs, were perishable and have
left no archaeological record. About the typical Carthaginian trader,
however, we can form some idea: he showed the same energy in
establishing new trading colonies and exploring the remoter parts of the
earth as his Phoenician ancestors, ‘whose merchants are princes, whose
traffickers are the honourable of the earth’ in the words of Isaiah (23.8),
though Homer (Od. xiv.288f) stressed less attractive aspects of the
Phoenician merchant, ‘a man well versed in guile, a greedy knave’ (avnp
dmatynAta €idws, tpwrns). In a later age Hanno, the Punic trader in
Plautus’ Poenulus, is portrayed ina more kindly light, at worst a figure of
fun; presumably this also reflects the attitude of the lost Greek New
Comedy play used by Plautus. These plays show that Punic merchants
were visiting Greece again with the improvement of relations after

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE gut

Alexander’s day and that a Roman audience, probably just after the
Hannibalic War, could laugh, perhaps unmaliciously, at an ex-enemy, a
loosely robed pious foreigner with rings in his ears. Further, Plautus
counterbalances Homer’s picture of Phoenicians as kidnappers of chil-
dren (Od. xv.415ff) by telling of the seizure of Carthaginian children by
Greek slave-dealers, while he indicates that Hanno had one of the pre-
requisites of the good international trader, the ability to speak the
language of his customers: ‘he knows all languages’ (‘is omnis linguas
scit’: Poen. 112); he also made use of individual reciprocal contracts of
hospitality (¢esserae hospitales) to build up his trade relationships. More
official were the ties established by proxeny: thus we hear of Nobas, a
Carthaginian proxenos who was honoured at Thebes ¢. 364 B.c. (SIG
1.179).

A large proportion of Carthaginian commerce comprised a carrier
trade: Carthage acted as middleman and helped to distribute the products
of more industrial peoples and the raw materials of less civilized peoples
to appropriate markets. Her control of the western Mediterranean and
her own key position enabled her to build up, sustain and indeed enforce
on others this transit trade. Thus foreign traders could visit Carthage,
but not sail further west, so that most of the products of Greece, Egypt
and Italy found in North Africa, Spain and Sardinia must have been
conveyed in Punic ships which re-exported the goods that arrived at
Carthage: she was a great Mediterranean clearing-house. But it is not easy
to define her imports and exports in any detail. In Hellenistic times she
presumably exported some corn, oil, food-stuffs, textiles, horses and
slaves, and she acquired precious metals from the backward natives of
the West in return for trinkets and the cheaper products of her own
industry which can have found markets only in areas less civilized than
herself and could not compete with the more artistic wares of the East.
These metals, which enabled Carthage to produce her own spectacular
gold and silver coinage, were required by other states such as Ptolemaic
Egypt with whom Carthage had good relations, as witnessed by her
request to Ptolemy for a loan during the First Punic War and by the
possibility that she even allowed a Ptolemaic officer to sail to Carteia in
southern Spain.'8 But here as elsewhere detailed knowledge is lacking:
‘though there may have been considerable trade between the two cities
{Alexandria and Carthage] in the earlier Ptolemaic period, there is little
surviving trace of it . . . it is not possible to form any clear idea of the
goods exchanged in either direction’. Such is the cautious conclusion of
P.M. Fraser!) and it reinforces the view that we must simply trust to a

18 On this officer, Timosthenes of Rhodes, see Fraser 1972[A52z], 1.52 and relevant note.
19 Fraser 1972{A32], 1.153.

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gi2 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

large extent the unanimous impression of the ancient writers about the
wealth of Carthage and the extent of her trade.

Little need be said here about Carthaginian art, since amid Egyptian
and Greek influences it is extremely difficult to isolate a distinctively
Punic contribution of any high aesthetic value or inspiration. These
influences weakened in the fifth and earlier fourth centuries, but they
revived in full force thereafter. We have already glanced at some of the
products of the workshops of Carthage. Two of the most attractive and
interesting of these, although the work of Greek or Greek-trained Punic
artists, are the large number of sculptured limestone ste/ae and the copper
razors which probably had a ritualistic rather than a purely practical
function. While the early ste/ae of the seventh to fifth centuries, which
hark back to Phoenician models, are shaped like thrones and altars, later
stones generally had a triangular top; from the fourth century they
sometimes portray the dead, priests and worshippers, while later their
repertoire was extended to include a great variety of animals, as well as
chariots, ships, vases, knives and jewel-cases, though the human figure is
rare. Many ste/ae were found in other towns, such as Sousse (from the
fifth century) and Constantine (third century); indeed this very typical
Punic product survived the fall of Carthage and continued to flourish in
the Neo-Punic period, for instance at Dougga (second-first centuries).
Most of the engraved razors, which come from fourth-century or later
tombs in Carthage, Sardinia and Ibiza (but not Spain), concentrate on
religious themes, such as deities and sacred symbols, of which the
majority are Egyptian and Punic rather than Greek: thus Baal had to
compete with Isis and Horus. Egyptian gods, animals and divine sym-
bols are also depicted on amulets; their use was frequent in the seventh
and sixth centuries, less so in the fifth, and revived in the fourth and third
but not to the same extent. Though many were imported from Egypt,
some are thought to have been manufactured in Carthage: at any rate
they indicate the interest of the Carthaginians in superstition and magic.
Some Egyptianizing and Graecizing motifs are seen in the scarabs and
jewellery; when ¢. 400 B.c. the scarab was no longer made in Egypt, the
Carthaginians either imported them from Sardinia or made them them-
selves. Some of the early jewellery was very good, such as circular gold
pendants and ear-rings from Carthage and Tharros in Sardinia, but in
later pieces Greek influences have largely replaced the earlier Phoenician
inspiration. In general the Carthaginians’ lack of artistic impulse accords
with Plutarch’s picture (Mor. 799p): ‘they are a hard and gloomy people,
submissive to their rulers and harsh to their subjects ... they keep
obstinately to their decisions, are austere, and care little for amusement
or the graces of life’.

The Punic language came of a sturdy stock, the North Semitic family,

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE 513

and survived in North Africa for many centuries after the fall of Carthage
itself. Evidence exists for Carthaginian books and libraries, but little is
known about their authors or contents, though St Augustine could say
(Ep. xvu.2) that ‘in Carthaginian books there were many things wisely
handed down to memory’ (‘multa sapienter esse mandata memoriae’).
There were Carthaginian histories, written by a certain Hiempsal and by
King Juba, which may have provided information for the Emperor
Claudius’ history of Carthage in Greek. The main work known to history
is Mago’s treatise on agriculture, but we have no references to poetry or
philosophy, though it was a certain Hasdrubal, born at Carthage, who
settled in Greece, changed his name to Clitomachus and became head of
the New Academy (but he wrote in Greek). The official account of
Hanno’s voyage of exploration down the west coast of Africa was
commemorated in a long inscription set up in the temple of Melkart, but
whether such tales of adventure circulated also in book form we do not
know. Numerous inscriptions survive, but most are brief epitaphs or
dedications. The great literature of many Old Testament authors showed
that a Phoenician people had a precedent for developing literary gifts,
but the Carthaginians seem to have neglected all fields of artistic pursuit,
concentrating rather on more material objectives. Unlike the early
Roman authors who began by translating Greek epic and tragedy, the
Carthaginians seem not to have felt the need for any imaginative litera-
ture — and yet we cannot be quite certain: were all the books in the Punic
libraries technical manuals? At any rate some Hellenized Carthaginians
must have read some Greek literature, and the historical work of the
Sicilian Philinus and the accounts of Hannibal’s exploits written in Greek
by Sosylus and Silenus seem to have been aimed at Carthaginian as well as
Greek readers.

The religious beliefs and practices which the Carthaginians inherited
from their Phoenician ancestors played a significant part in their life.
Many Carthaginian citizens had theophoric personal names, and the
evidence of tombs and votive ste/ae suggests a considerable personal
involvement in religion. However, it is not easy to distinguish the nature
and functions of some of the gods, who were seldom depicted in
anthropomorphic shape, and little mythology survives to attest beliefs
about their mutual relationships. Further, difficulties arise from uncer-
tainty whether a name is being used in a general or in a more individual-
ized sense for the deity. The chief god of Tyre, Baal Melkart, was
worshipped in Carthage, as also in the Phoenician settlement at Gades,
and was later equated with Heracles. Equally important was Eshmun,
originally from Sidon and assimilated to Aesculapius. Other Phoenician
gods who also received temples in Carthage included Resheph, god of
lightning (Apollo) and many minor Baals. The two deities most fre-

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514 II. CARTHAGE AND ROME

quently named in the numerous votive inscriptions, either together or
separately, are Baal Hammon and Tanit Pene Baal (Tanit, Face of Baal).
Their early history is obscure. Baal Hammon is already found in the East,
and was later perhaps connected with another deity, the Egyptian
Ammon whose cult had spread in Libya; he was identified by the Greeks
with Kronos (and probably also with Zeus), by the Romans with Saturn.
On a stele from Sousse he is shown bearded, wearing a tall crown anda
long robe, and seated on a throne flanked by winged sphinxes. Tanit
hardly appears in Phoenicia and is found in Carthage only after the fifth
century; she corresponds to the eastern Astarte (Ashtoreth), a mother-
goddess; her symbols, dove, pomegranate, fish and palm-tree, indicate
fertility (the precise significance of the ubiquitous ‘sign of Tanit’, a
triangle on which rests a horizontal line surmounted by a circle, remains
debatable). Though Tanit came to the fore in the fifth century, this
supports but does not prove the view that at this time a major
change took place in religious loyalties in Carthage, whereby Baal
Hammon and Tanit Pene Baal overshadowed the Phoenician Melkart
and Astarte.20 Nor does the introduction of the cult of Demeter-Kore
into Carthage (in expiation of the sacking of their sanctuary in Syracuse
by the Carthaginians in 396 B.c.) involve the widespread hellenization of
Carthaginian religion;2! the cult was to be tended by Greeks resident in
Carthage. While not rejecting older beliefs, the Carthaginians may have
become more receptive of new ideas, but on the whole they appear to
have remained conservative. Thus amulets and razors show that Egyp-
tian deities were extremely popular, at least at the level of private
superstition, but these gods seem to have made no inroad into official
beliefs, since their cults are not recorded in the inscriptions.

Sacrifice was a significant part of Punic ritual. That on occasion this
included human sacrifice is not a false accusation by national enemies of
Carthage, but is confirmed by the excavations in the tophet at Carthage:
here were found numerous urns containing the burnt bones of children
and two inscriptions which mention infant sacrifice.22 The children, who
appear to have been generally provided by the leading families, were
mostly under two years old. This sacrifice (woloch), which may at periods
have been an annual event, took the form of placing the children in the
hands of a bronze statue of Baal Hammon, whence they were dropped
into a furnace below; Tanit was often associated with Baal. Although

20 As argued by G.C. Picard 1964[K 107], 83ff; G. C. and C. Picard 1961[K113], 62; 1968[K114],
1soff.

21 As argued by Gaukler 1915[K51]}, 11.521 but rejected by Gsell 1912-20[K54], 1v.350.

2 Dussaud 1946{K 34], 371 ff. The American excavations of 1976-7 in the eastern part of the fophet
revealed over 200 urns, mostly of the fourth century, and suggest the possibility of some 20,000 urns
deposited between 400-200 B.C. This would suggest that child sacrifice was more a systematic than a
sporadic practice: see CEDAC 1 (Sept. 1978) 12. See also Stager 1980{K125], «ff.

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CARTHAGINIAN LIFE $15

child sacrifice was forbidden in the Old Testament (2 Kings 23.10; Jerem.
7-31; 9.5) and no fophet has been found in Phoenicia itself, it was
widespread in the West, where fophets are known at Hadrumetum
(Sousse), Motya, Calaria, Nora and Sulci. In some urns at both Carthage
and Hadrumetum only calcined animal bones (sheep and goats) are
found. This has suggested a possible increasing substitution for infant
sacrifice, but it would seem that at Carthage the percentage of animal
victims is higher in urns of the seventh and sixth centuries than in those
of the fourth.4 Further, emergencies demanded desperate measures:
thus after their defeat by Agathocles in 310 the Carthaginian nobles, who
had previously ‘cheated’ the god by sacrificing children other than their
own, now offered no less than 500 children. The sacrifice of adults was
not unknown, but the victims seem to have been confined to defeated
enemies and foreigners (though Melkart received one human victim each
year). Ordinary animal sacrifices to the gods were of course more
common, both large and small, from bulls to birds, and we have a tariff of
the priests’ shares (CIS 165): this inscription, though found at Marseilles,
refers to the temple of Baal Saphon at Carthage and gives the ‘account of
the dues which the controllers of dues have fixed: for each ox, whether
the sacrifice be a sin offering or a peace offering or a burnt offering, the
priests shall have ten pieces of silver for each, and for sin offering an
additional weight of three hundred. . . of the flesh’. The smaller dues for
smaller animals and for food and drink follow.

The temples and sanctuaries were served by priests and priestesses
(kohanim) who tended to come from the same families: thus one inscrip-
tion mentions seventeen generations, another five.24 Sometimes a priest-
hood might be held by a secular official (as by the general Malchus in the
sixth century), but probably this was not usual. A hierarchy existed
within the priesthood and inscriptions refer to a supervisory body of ten
officials. Some priests seem to have been subject to strict taboos. Priests
are depicted on three ste/ae at Carthage: one shows a bearded figure,
wearing a head-scarf and a linen robe over a short tunic, and holding a
patera and flask; another, beardless and wearing a fez-like hat, carries an
infant, presumably for sacrifice (Fig. 58). Lesser officials include scribes,
musicians and barbers; the last seemingly used the ritual razors that are
found in the tombs (some priests were tonsured). The evidence for
religious prostitution, whether of women or boys, which was practised
in Phoenicia, is doubtful, though what may be ‘temple boys’ are depicted
on some stelae. Votive gifts in tombs seem to indicate some beliefs in an
after-life. The priests, who held a respected position in Carthaginian
society, may well have helped to preserve older Carthaginian traditions,

23 Cintas 1947{K 24], 1ff; Stager 1980{K125], 7f. 2 Lagrange 1905[K75A], 480.

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516

Ti. CARTHAGE AND ROME

Fig. 58. Carthaginian stele depicting priest with infant (for sacrifice?).

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ROMANO-CARTHAGINIAN TREATIES 517

even after 146 B.c. Indeed, if Tertullian is describing comparatively
recent events, as he may well be (Apo/. 9.2), human sacrifice endured in
Africa until the mid-second century a.p. Though in the fourth century
B.c. Carthage had become more subjected to Greek influences and had
entered the world of Hellenistic economy, she yet stubbornly maintained
much of her traditional culture in religion as well as language. But if her
cultural development was to some extent moulded by Greece, her
political future was to be determined by her relations with Rome.

Il. THE ROMANO-CARTHAGINIAN TREATIES
(a) The early treaties

Rome and Carthage lived in harmony during the centuries of their
earliest contacts, and there was little reason why it should have been
otherwise. During most of the sixth century Rome was politically
controlled by Etruscan rulers, and Carthage and the Etruscan cities were
united by a common rivalry against the Western Greeks. Any trade that
early Rome may have developed was stimulated by Etruscan domina-
tion; it would therefore be handled through Etruscan channels which
were essentially in accord with Carthage.?5 Indeed regal Rome probably
had direct treaty relations with Carthage. In referring to the treaties
between Carthage and Etruria Aristotle (Po/. 11.1280 a 36ff) unfortu-
nately mentions only ‘Etruscans’ (Tuppnvoi) and does not make it clear
whether the Etruscan signatories were the Etruscan League or individ-
ual Etruscan cities. In view of the political weakness of the League,
separate Etruscan cities are far more likely to have negotiated terms with
Carthage, whose commercial ties were stronger with the coastal than the
inland cities of Etruria. In either case the first treaty that republican
Rome made with Carthage probably represents the renewal of an earlier
one contracted by regal Rome. The closeness of the links between
Carthage and Etruria has recently been dramatically underlined by the
discovery of the gold tablets at Pyrgi (p. 256), the harbour town of
Etruscan Caere, with the revelation of the existence of a shrine of the
Phoenician goddess Astarte at Pyrgi and the dedication made there by
the Etruscan ruler of Caere. This discovery must have seemed less
surprising to those scholars who recalled that at Santa Marinella some ten
km. further up the coast from Pyrgi lay a settlement called Punicum.

Apart from the indirect evidence offered by archaeology, our know-
ledge of the early relations of Carthage and Rome derives almost entirely
from a series of treaties recorded by some ancient writers. This testi-
mony, which raises numerous problems about their date and number, in

25 For an alternative interpretation of the presence of Etruscan rulers at Rome see p. 2596.

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518 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

essence is as follows. Polybius (111.22ff) quotes three treaties before the
time of the First Punic War and declares that there were only three: he
dates the first to the first year of the Republic (508-507 in his reckoning),
the second is undated and the third belongs to the Pyrrhic War in 279-
278. Polybius further rejects as false the statement of the pro-
Carthaginian Sicilian historian Philinus that there was another treaty
which precluded the Romans from entering Sicily and the Carthaginians
Italy. Livy records a treaty in 348 (vur.27.2), the presence of a
Carthaginian embassy at Rome in 343 (v11.38.2), another treaty in 306
which is ‘tertio renovatum’ (‘renewed for the third time’) (1x.43.6), and
yet another in 279, ‘quarto foedus renovatum (‘treaty renewed for the
fourth time’) (Ep. xu). He also suggests a treaty earlier than that of 348
when in discussing the potential threat of Alexander the Great to the
West he refers (1x.19.13) to the Roman and Carthaginian states being
united at that time by ‘ancient treaties’ (‘foederibus vetustis iuncta res
Punica Romanae esset’). Diodorus (xvi.69.1) gives only one treaty
before that of 279/8: this he says was the first. He places it in the
consulship of M. Valerius and M. Popillius which according to his
chronological system should fall in the Attic year 344/3, but in fact
belongs to the Varronian year 348. Of these three authors unfortunately
only Polybius provides any details about the content of the treaties.
Numerous attempts have been made to try to reconcile the discrepancies
in the sources and many scholars have followed the example of
Mommsen in questioning the accuracy of Polybius’ dating of the first
treaty, but before we turn to such problems, the sources of Polybius’
information must be examined.

The proximate source presents no problem: Polybius himself provides
the answer. He records that at the time of the outbreak of the Second
Punic War the existing treaties were referred to in fairly general terms:
‘but I think a more particular examination will be useful both to practical
statesmen, who require to know the exact truth of the matter, in order to
avoid mistakes in any critical deliberations, and to historical students,
that they may not be led astray by the ignorance or partisan bias of
historians; but that there may be some survey generally recognized as
accurate of the treaties between Rome and Carthage from the earliest
times to our own day’ (111.21.9f). Polybius wished to establish historical
truth for its own sake (the reference to ignorance or bias of historians
obviously includes Philinus), but there can be little doubt that interest in
the topic was heightened in Polybius’ own day by the debates which took
place in the Senate House and among individual Roman nobles before
the outbreak of the Third Punic War. When events were moving
towards a resumption of hostilities with Carthage after a lull of half a
century, Polybius wanted to place contemporary discussion in an accu-

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ROMANO-CARTHAGINIAN TREATIES 519

rate historical setting. This was the more necessary since according to
Polybius (111.26.2) even in his day the oldest Romans and Carthaginians
and those that had the reputation of taking the greatest interest in public
affairs were ignorant of the treaties. This is most surprising since
Polybius records that the treaties, engraved on bronze, were preserved in
the treasury of the aediles beside the temple of luppiter Capitolinus. Thus
this general ignorance was presumably occasioned merely by apathy, and
no one had bothered to consult the documents until in the late 150s
serious interest and concern was felt in Rome about a possible break-
down of peace in North Africa and any potential threat from a flourish-
ing Carthage.

Referring to the first treaty Polybius says that he gives as accurate an
interpretation as he can (Steppnvedcavres queis vroyeypadapev), ‘but
the ancient Roman language differs so much from that in present use,
that some parts of it can be understood only with difficulty, after
considerable application by the most knowledgeable Romans’ (111.22.3).
dtepunvedaavres probably means ‘interpreting’ rather than strictly ‘trans-
lating’ into Greek, since Polybius claims only to reproduce the treaties in
general terms: efoi 8 ai auvOqKxat Toraide tivés. He is often assumed to
have found the treaty in some written source, but, if so, the writer must
remain quite uncertain. In the fourth book of his Origines Cato claimed
that before the Second Punic War the Carthaginians broke their treaties
for the sixth time (fr. 84 P), but the priority of publication of the relevant
books of Cato and of Polybius is not known: although books 1—v1 of
Polybius may have appeared about 150 B.c., and Origines tv and v
somewhat earlier, the last books, vi and vir, which are likely to have dealt
with the antecedents of the Third Punic War at considerable length,
appear to have been published after Cato’s death in 149. Cato may of
course have discussed the treaties in regard to the events of 219-218 B.C.,
but if they only came to light in the mid-second century, his full treatment
probably was to be found in the later books. The possibility that Polybius
was allowed to consult Cato’s manuscript before its publication is not
very strong. Thus if Polybius used published sources, these must remain
unidentified.26

Stimulated by current interest in earlier Romano-Punic relations,
some of the leading Roman statesmen may have consulted the archives in
the 150s and a written copy could even have circulated among them. In
view of his personal friendship with Scipio Aemilianus, Polybius could
then have been given access to this to help him in his historical research.
But this is mere hypothesis. Although our chief modern authority feels

2 See Walbank 1972{B185], 20, 80 for a brief summary of his views, which are against the use of
Cato, as are those of Nenci 1958{K137], 265. See Badian 1966(B6], 7f for dating the Origines.

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§20 II. CARTHAGE AND ROME

that ‘it is highly unlikely that Polybius himself consulted the text of the
treaties in the treasury’,?’ it is not impossible and it would help to explain
Polybius’ emphasis on the difficulty of the archaic language (which of
course provides one of the strongest arguments for the early date of the
treaty). If Polybius saw the treaty in the version of a contemporary
writer, he would not be impressed by the language difficulty. His
emphasis on this would then amount to little more than an oblique
excuse for avoiding autopsy (since Polybius, unlike modern scholars,
was not concerned to use the archaic language as an argument to support
the early date: he accepted this as an unassailable fact). True, if he had
been shown a private copy by (say) Scipio, who had helped him to read it,
the linguistic difficulties would have struck him forcibly, since his own
incomplete knowledge of Latin makes it improbable that he could
attempt fully to understand and translate the treaty himself. But it still
remains possible that he consulted the original in the company of some
scholarly Roman friend: if he approached the treasury of the aediles with
his patron Aemilianus, he would scarcely have found the doors closed to
him. However, whatever the intermediate stages, we have little reason to
doubt that he has preserved a reasonably accurate record of the substance
of the treaties.

In view of the obscurity that surrounds the problem, little need be said
about the possible sources of the information given by Diodorus and
Livy (pp. 3ff). Fabius Pictor and Cincius Alimentus are among the
annalists that have been canvassed as Diodorus’ source, while either
Valerius Antias or Licinius Macer seems to lie behind much of Livy’s
first decade.

(b) The first treaty

Before giving the terms of the first treaty Polybius stated that it “was
made in the year of I. Iunius Brutus and M. Horatius, the first consuls
appointed after the expulsion of the kings and the men who dedicated the
temple of Iuppiter Capitolinus. This was twenty-eight years before the
crossing of Xerxes into Greece’ (111.22.1f). Since Polybius clearly be-
lieved the treaty and the Republic to be coeval, it is unnecessary to enter
here into the many problems surrounding the names of the first consuls
(p. 173f) and the precise dates involved in Polybius’ accounts, apart from
any light they may throw on the authenticity of the treaty. Recent
historians who believe Brutus and Horatius not to have been historical
figures use this assumption to argue that the treaty was late. If E.
Taubler?8 is right in arguing that Carthaginian practice suggests that the

27 Walbank 1972[B185], 81 n. go. 28 Taubler 1913[J235], t.270-3.

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ROMANO-CARTHAGINIAN TREATIES 21

treaty itself contained neither names nor date, they could easily have been
added later by Roman officials in charge of the records: believing the
treaty to belong to the first year of the Republic, these men appended the
names of the men they considered to have been the consuls of that year.
However, at least in the view of the present writer, it is by no means
certain that the names in themselves do not represent historical figures,
and even if doubts are entertained about Brutus, there is strong reason to
believe in Horatius as the dedicator of the temple. In fact the treaty may
have contained only Horatius’ name, as some believe, since the nearly
contemporary treaty of Sp. Cassius of ¢. 493 (p. 274) probably included
his name alone, while Cicero (Ba/b. 53) referred to it as struck under the
consulship of Cassius and his colleague Postumus Cominius. But what-
ever the truth, the names should not be used to discredit the date in which
Polybius firmly believed.
The clauses of the treaty itself are best set out in analytic form:

INTRODUCTION. There shall be friendship (¢cA‘a) between the Ro-
mans and their allies and the Carthaginians and their allies, on these
conditions:
I. THE ROMANS
(a) Maritime limits
The Romans and their allies shall not sail beyond the Fair
Promontory, unless forced by storm or by enemies. If any
one of them is driven ashore beyond the Promontory, he
shall not buy or carry away anything except what is re-
quired to repair his ship or for sacrifice [possibly he also had
to leave within five days, as in the second treaty].
(b) Trade within the permitted limits
(i) Libya and Sardinia
Trade in Libya and Sardinia shall be carried out in the
presence of a herald or town-clerk, and the price
secured to the seller by the state.
(ii) Sicily [and Carthage?]
Any Romans coming to the area of Sicily controlled by
Carthage shall enjoy all the commercial rights enjoyed
by others. [Since in his comments Polybius adds ‘to
Carthage itself and it appears in the second treaty
alongside Sicily, it should perhaps be supplied here.]
II. THE CARTHAGINIANS
(a) The part under Roman control.
(i) The Carthaginians shall do no injury to the people of
Ardea, Antium, the Laurentes (so Ursinus for the
adpevrivwy of the MSS: see below), Circeii, Tarracina,
nor any other Latins that are subject to Rome.

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522 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

(b) The part not under direct Roman control.

(1) Regarding those that are not subject, the
Carthaginians shall keep their hands off their cities,
but if they take any such city they shall hand it over to
the Romans undamaged.

(ii) They shall build no fort in Latin territory.

(iii) If they enter the district in arms, they shall not pass a
night in it.

Since the treaty is drafted in Carthaginian form, the preliminary
assertion of friendship, which is the chief positive element, may well be
couched in Polybian terms rather than in those of the original. Polybius
also records the accompanying oaths, not in the text of the treaty but
separately in his later comments on it (111.25.6f). The Carthaginians
swore by their ancestral gods (these are specified in more detail in the
later treaty between Hannibal and Philip v of Macedon in 215 B.c.
(Polyb. vit.9.2)) and the Romans by lIuppiter Lapis in accordance with
ancient custom (a ceremony which probably involved invoking luppiter
and hurling away a stone as a symbol that a perjuror should similarly be
cast out by his state).

From the Carthaginian point of view the main emphasis of the treaty is
on commerce, from the Roman it is on political conditions in Latium.
One major problem is to define the limits set on Roman navigation: this
hinges on the identification of the Fair Promontory. Polybius placed the
Promontory to the north of Carthage and gives his own opinion on why
the Carthaginians forbade the Romans to sail south of it: they wished to
exclude them from the Syrtes and the emporia to the south-east. This
would mean identifying the Promontory with Cap Bon to the east of
Carthage (Map 12); it could not be to the west since in his commentary
Polybius says that the Romans were granted access to Carthage itself and
this could not have occurred if they had been barred from an area which
started to the west of the city and stretched eastwards. However, in the
second treaty, as we shall see, the barred zone was extended from the Fair
Promontory to Mastia (Cartagena) on the Spanish coast; now if the Fair
Promontory was Cap Bon the barrier running from Africa to Spain
would have left Carthage itself to the west within the forbidden area,
whereas in fact Polybius tells us that it was not. Also elsewhere (1.29.2;
36.11) Polybius calls Cap Bon the WHermaean Promontory
(Promunturium Mercuri in Livy). It would seem therefore that the Fair
Promontory must be sought west of Cap Bon and of Carthage itself,
either at Cap Farina (Ras Sidi Ali el Mekki) which the Romans called
Promunturium Pulchri or, less probably, Cap Blanc (Ras Abiad), the
Roman Promunturium Candidum (attempts to identify it with Cabo de

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ROMANO-CARTHAGINIAN TREATIES §23

Map 12 North Africa in the third century.

Palos in Spain are less happy). In this case Polybius must have misunder-
stood the treaty, which will have excluded the Romans not from the
Syrtes to the east of Carthage, but from the coast of North Africa along
Numidia and Mauretania to the west of Carthage. The permission to
trade, under fixed conditions, in Libya, must then refer to the territory
east of Cape Farina, that is around the Bay of Tunis and further east,
while in Carthage itself, as in western Sicily, conditions were even freer.
Thus theoretically the Syrtes coast was open to Rome, but its dangers
(from which a Roman fleet suffered in 253 B.c.) were such as to
discourage much trade. Thus in general terms the Romans were excluded
from much of the southern part of the seas west of Carthage, were given

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$24 11. CARTHAGE AND ROME

controlled access to the area around Carthage and in Sardinia, and greater
freedom in Punic Sicily and Carthage itself.29

The main concern of the Romans was to protect Latium from
Carthaginian interference; piratical raids rather than large-scale invasion
must have been the chief fear. In Latium the cities fell into two categories:
those ‘subject’ to Rome, which included five specifically named towns,
and those not thus subject. The former were probably dependent allies
(socit) who had individual treaties of alliance with Rome, in which
Rome’s military leadership was recognized, irrespective of Rome’s rela-
tions with the Latin League as a whole; Rome is known to have had such
a treaty with Gabii. The Latin cities which were not ‘subject’ were
probably members of the League which met at Ferentina, of which Rome
was a member and perhaps the leading member.” Of the five named
towns, which lay on or near the coast stretching for some sixty miles
south of Rome, that of the Laurentes causes some doubts. These people
are possibly to be identified with the inhabitants of a very early settle-
ment supposedly named Laurentum which soon merged with neigh-
bouring Lavinium, or more probably Laurens was the name of the
people whose city was called Lavinium (as Ardea was a city of the
Rutuli). On the other hand in his comments on the second treaty
Polybius mentions the other four towns but not that of the Laurentes; so
either he has accidentally omitted it, or the MS reading of apevriévwy in his
text of the first treaty might possibly be a corrupted dittography of
Apdearwyv (the people of Ardea) or "Avriarwy (the people of Antium).
However, in view of the importance of early Lavinium, demonstrated by
recent archaeological discoveries, and its very close religious ties with
Rome, it may very well have been named in the first treaty. But whether
specifically mentioned or not, it would of course be covered by one or
other of the clauses of the treaty. As to Tarracina, which fell to the
Volscians before goo and was then known as Anxur, while it is true that
in later times it was called only Tarracina, this name may well be Etruscan
and have been the original as well as the later name. Thus in general terms
Rome claimed to throw a protective shield over a very wide area in
Latium, but there is no suggestion that her interests transcend the
boundaries of Latium.

Do these terms accord with what is known about the general historical
background of Carthage and Rome and about international conditions

29 Fora recent reaffirmation of the identity of Polybius’ KaAdv dxpwripiov with Cap Farina (Ras
Sidi Ali el Mekki) west of Carthage see Werner 1975[K 167], 21-44. He rejects attempts to identify it
with Cap Bon made by Prachner 1969[K 161], 157-72 and Petzold 1972[K159], 372ff. Marek
1977[K 153], 1-7 tries to have it both ways by identifying it with Cap Bon and then arguing that
under this first treaty the barred zone was the Syrtes area, to which the second treaty added Spain
south of Mastia and (for trade) the African coast west of Cap Farina.

% For a different view see p. 272.

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ROMANO-CARTHAGINIAN TREATIES 525

throughout the western Mediterranean near the end of the sixth century,
or are they so inappropriate as to throw doubt on the Polybian dating?
Throughout much of the sixth century the Carthaginians, often in co-
operation with Etruscan cities, had been engaged in a long struggle to
check the thrusting expansion of the Greeks in the West. It would thus be
reasonable for Carthage to maintain her existing ties and to enter into
fresh negotiations with the infant Roman Republic. It may seem surpris-
ing that Carthage made no effort to bar the Romans from the Spanish
coast, but in all probability she had not yet gained control of the kingdom
of Tartessos in Andalusia, which was on good terms with the Greeks.
This fits in well with an early date for the first treaty, since by the time of
the next treaty in the fourth century the Carthaginians had long con-
quered Tartessos (whether it be ¢. 500 B.c. as A. Schulten believed, or
c. 450, as R. Werner maintains)>! and thus could insist on the exclusion of
the Romans from this area — but in 509 they could not do so. The
restrictions that Carthage imposed in Sardinia and Sicily pose little
difficulty. In Sardinia the Carthaginians had strengthened their hold after
the earlier defeat of Malchus: thus the fort on Monte Sirai had been
restored in the course of the sixth century, and under Mago and his son
Hasdrubal control of the coastal areas was secure. In Sicily in ¢. 510 the
Spartan prince Dorieus made an attempt to settle in the western Punic
end of the island, but he was soon overwhelmed by a force of
Carthaginians, Sicilian Phoenicians and local Elymians. Carthage, once
again in control, could offer to treat the Romans on the same footing as
any other traders in their Sicilian territory. What is known about
Carthaginian influence in Libya, Sardinia and Sicily around 500 B.c.
therefore accords with the possibility of a treaty of some such date, but
our knowledge of details of Carthaginian policy in these areas at this time
is probably too limited to permit further refinement, and to give firm
support to a recent suggestion that the treaty must be slightly later than
480,32

Before his ill-fated Sicilian venture Dorieus had made an equally
unsuccessful attempt to establish a Greek settlement at the mouth of the
R. Cinyps in Tripolitania ¢. 513: within three years the Libyan natives,
aided by some Carthaginian troops, had driven him and the settlers out.
This episode might be brought into direct relation with the first treaty, if
the latter did preclude the Romans from the Syrtes area (rather than from
the coast westwards of Carthage), but such an argument should be
resisted: the incident was only one ina long series of efforts by Carthage
to keep others out of this sensitive area, and these continued until the

3A. Schulten, Tartessos (Ed. 2. Hamburg, 1960), 72f.; Werner 1963[A134)], 326ff.
32 Werner 1963[A1 34], 316-29, in accordance with his view that the Republic was established in
¢. 470 rather than in 509.

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526 II. CARTHAGE AND ROME

second century when they culminated in the aggressions of Massinissa.
Tripolitania was probably of little interest to Rome at this time, while the
main concern of Carthage with it was to prevent Greek settlement there
from threatening her communications with the Phoenicians of the
eastern Mediterranean. However that is not to say that an agreement
with Rome that regulated, if it did not exclude, trade with this area would
not be sought by Carthage.

Thus the interests of Carthage near the end of the sixth century accord
quite well with the Polybian date, while K. J. Beloch’s attempt to suggest
that her international relations in ¢. 384 B.c., when Dionysius of Syracuse
sacked Pyrgi, the port of Caere, and when Carthage might be eager to
acquire non-Greek allies in the western Mediterranean, would provide a
better date, has not met with much favour: though by then Carthage had
emerged from a period of comparative isolation into which she had been
drawn between her defeat at Himera (480) and her renewed efforts in
Sicily in 409, her wide-spread commercial activity had not been revived
until about the mid-fourth century, while the Romans can scarcely have
been very concerned with overseas affairs immediately after their city
had been sacked by the Gauls.33

From the Roman point of view also a treaty at the beginning of the
Republic presents little difficulty to those who accept that she had
become a fairly powerful state under the Etruscans, with widespread
interests in Latium, where ‘superior Romana res erat’ (‘the interests of
the Roman people predominated’: Livy 1.52.4). In a new, or more
probably a renewed treaty it would be perfectly natural for the Republic
to claim the same position vis-a-vis the Latins as the last king had exercised
— though the claim was very soon to be challenged and defeated. The
very fact that Rome’s relations with the Latins deteriorated rapidly and
that sixteen years later in the consulship of Sp. Cassius a new alliance was
negotiated under which Rome had to abandon any claim to dominance in
Latium in exchange for an alliance of equals, strongly supports the
Polybian date.

Other considerations, arising from a comparison with the terms of the
second Polybian treaty, also support an early date, but these must be
postponed until the content of the second treaty has been explored.

The formal arrangement of the second treaty, as given by Polybius,
differs from the first: whereas the earlier document dealt first with
Roman and then with Carthaginian obligations, the second subsumes

33 See Beloch 1926[Ar2], 309ff, whose views are rejected by Toynbee 1965[A131], 1.5 30f.

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both contracting parties under various headings. The second section of
this later treaty (Polyb. 111.24.8—10; see 1 below) takes the form of a
ovpBodov epi Tod pn adixeiv (‘an agreement to refrain from mutual
injury’) such as occurred in the treaties between Carthage and Etruria
according to Aristotle (Po/. 111.1280 c 3 5ff) and also in a treaty negotiated
by Tyre with its overlord Assurhadon of Assyria in 677.54 The content of

ROMANO-CARTHAGINIAN TREATIES 527

the second treaty also may be set out in analytic form:

There shall be friendship between the Romans and their allies and the
Carthaginians, Tyrians (?), and the people of Utica and their allies on

these terms:

I. GEOGRAPHICAL LIMITATIONS
(i) For the Romans

(il)

The Romans shall not plunder, trade or colonize on the
further side of the Fair Promontory, Mastia (and?)
Tarseum (Maorias Taponiov: see below).

For the Carthaginians

(a) If the Carthaginians capture any city in Latium not
subject to Rome, they may keep the goods and men,
but must surrender the city.

(b) If any Carthaginians take captive any member of a
people with whom the Romans have a written peace
treaty but who are not subject to Rome, they shall not
bring them into Roman harbours, but if one is
brought in and a Roman lay hold of him, he shall be
set free. In like manner the Romans shall be bound to
the Carthaginians.

Il. CONTRACT REGARDING MUTUAL INJURIES

(i)

(ii)
(iii)

For the Romans

Ifa Roman takes water or provision from any place within
the jurisdiction of Carthage, he shall not injure, while so
doing, any member of a people with whom the
Carthaginians have peace and friendship.

For the Carthaginians

Neither shall a Carthaginian in like case.

Both parties

If a Roman or Carthaginian break the agreement, the
other party shall not take private vengeance, but [if any
one does break the agreement] the wrong shall bea matter
of state adjustment.

* See D.D. Luckenbill, Ancient Records of Assyria and Babylonia (Chicago, 1927), 11.229.

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528 II. CARTHAGE AND ROME

III. SPECIAL CONDITIONS
(i) For the Romans
(a) Sardinia and Libya
No Roman shall trade or colonize in Sardinia and
Libya nor [land in a Sardinian or Libyan port for any
other purpose than] to take in provisions or repair his
ship. If he be driven there by storm, he shall depart
within five days.
(b) Sicily and Carthage
In the Carthaginian province of Sicily and at Carthage
he may do and sell anything that is permitted to a
citizen.
(ii) For the Carthaginians
A Carthaginian may do likewise in Rome.

Unlike the first treaty, the second mentions by name one (or two) of the
allies of Carthage. The inclusion of Utica, now a privileged ally, indicates
greater Carthaginian control in North Africa, but the mention of Tyre
raises doubts: it should perhaps be rejected on the ground that Polybius
may have misunderstood some Punic phrase such as ‘the Tyrians of
Carthage’, which was their official title. The reference to Maorias
Taponiov is also difficult; although Polybius seems to believe that Mastia
was in Africa, it was almost certainly the site in Spain where New
Carthage (Cartagena) was later founded. In his introductory remarks to
the treaty (111.24.2) Polybius seems to take Mastia and Tarseum as two
settlements, but more probably they are to be linked (he may have
misunderstood an archaic Latin genitive, ‘Mastiam Tarseiom’) and
Tarseum is to be connected with the Tartessians whose territory ended
just north of Cartagena at the River Tader. The object of this provision
was to extend the prohibited area: hitherto it included only the North
African coast west of Cape Farina, but now it was to embrace the whole
of the western end of the Mediterranean as far north on the Spanish coast
as Cartagena, subject no doubt to the exceptions caused by accident
mentioned later in the treaty.

The text of this second treaty, as given by Polybius, does not specify
any cities in Latium by name, but in his comments Polybius says that the
Romans again stressed that the Carthaginians should not harm the
coastal cities of Ardea, Antium, Circeii and Tarracina (either he has
carelessly omitted Lavinium or the name should be excluded from the
first treaty). This comment however may be merely a gloss by Polybius
and, if so, the names will not have appeared in the treaty. The towns
which had written peace treaties with Rome and were not subject to her
were foederati, such as Tibur and Praeneste in Latium, and possibly

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ROMANO-CARTHAGINIAN TREATIES 529

(depending on the date) other cities as far afield as Tarquinii, Caere, and
even Tarentum. The treaty then returns to trading rights and completely
excludes the Romans from Sardinia and Libya, which previously had
been open to them under controlled conditions, though Punic Sicily and
Carthage itself remained accessible.

Polybius unfortunately does not date this treaty, but during much of
the fifth century the Romans were subjected to great internal and
external pressure and were not perhaps likely to have been much
concerned with overseas affairs. Gradually they gained sufficient
strength to defeat the Aequi and Volsci and to capture Etruscan Veii, an
event which must have impressed the Carthaginians, but then came the
Gallic Sack of Rome. After some decades of slow recovery, by 350 B.c.
Etruria was neutralized by Rome’s long-term non-aggression agree-
ments with Tarquinii and Caere, an alliance had recently been made with
the Samnites, and though the Latins after their defeat in 358 were to
prove less settled than might appear, Roman power in Italy was obvi-
ously increasing (pp. 320ff), as might be noted at Carthage. Thus ¢. 350
seems a reasonable terminus post quem for the treaty, while a terminus ante
quem some ten years later is provided by the absence from the treaty of any
reference to Roman control in Campania. Thus the 340s provide a
suitable period, while Livy in fact records (v11.27.21) the conclusion of a
treaty in 348, when Carthaginian envoys came to Rome ‘amicitiam ac
societatem petentes’ (‘seeking friendship and alliance’)>5; this date is also
supported obliquely by Diodorus’ muddled statement (see above). True,
Diodorus says that this was the first treaty; Livy, however, although not
mentioning any earlier one, does not say that the pact of 348 was the first.
It would therefore seem unnecessary, if not perverse, to seek any other
date. (Attempts to place Polybius’ first two treaties in 348 and 306
respectively founder on the absence of any reference to the Campanian
cities in the second treaty.)

This dating gains support from the form and content of the two
treaties, and above all from Polybius’ stress upon the difficult Latinity of
the earlier one. This in itself suggests a considerable lapse of time
between the two. The theory>’ that the second is essentially only a
supplement to the first and that therefore the time-gap must have been
small, has not met with wide acceptance. Rather, Polybius treats the
second as a completely new agreement, and not as a mere string of
amendments. The difference in structure (p. 5 26f) also suggests a longish

38 Calderone 1980{K141], 365ff dates Livy’s treaty to 344 (because of the ‘Dictator Years’ (p.
348)) and believes that it was a military alliance (societas) and so cannot be equated with either of the
Polybian treaties, which established only amicitia (‘friendship’).

% As argued by Taubler 1913[J235], 1.373-4 and Schachermeyr 1930[K 165], 371ff.

37 Aymard 1957[K138}, 277-93, criticized by Toynbee 1965{A131], 1.5 36f.

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530 11. CARTHAGE AND ROME

interval and Carthage may well have adopted the form of a atpBodov epi
Tov 7 Gdcxeiv from Greek practice sometime between ¢. 500 and 348. In
context also there are major differences. Rome’s position in Latium is
different (the more so if the four Latin cities named in the second treaty
are merely a gloss by Polybius himself). The importance of the appear-
ance in 349 of a hostile Greek fleet off the coast of Latium and the mouth
of the Tiber, recorded by Livy (vi1.25.4; 26.14), has been variously
assessed. If it was merely a passing piratical raid (such as the attack of
Dionysius I on Pyrgi in 384-383), it will at very least have drawn
attention to the need to protect Latium. This much may be said without
accepting the theory that the Greek fleet came from Syracuse (as Livy
suspected, but did not know) to co-operate with the Gauls who were
attacking Latium,8 or the further suggestion that the Romano-Punic
treaty was designed not to protect a friendly Latium largely under
Roman control but rather to counter a mainly independent and hostile
Latin League which had appealed to the Greeks for help: on this view
Carthage will have made her second agreement with Rome, stimulated
by her perennial enmity with the Greeks and annoyed by the piratical
activities such as those of Antium which disturbed the peace of the coast
of Latium. Further, the outburst of new coinage issued by Carthage in
the 340s (see above, p. 507) suggests that she was reassessing her general
strategic position. Finally, the very considerable extension in the second
treaty of the areas where the Romans were barred or more closely
circumscribed suggests a development of Carthaginian power which will
not have occurred in a very short period. Thus the Livian date of 348 has
strong claims to be the year of this second Polybian treaty.

(d) Later treaties

Livy records that after the treaty of 348 Carthaginian envoys again went
to Rome in 343 to congratulate the Romans on their victory over the
Samnites and to offer a gold crown weighing 2; lbs. to Iuppiter
Capitolinus (v11.38.2); no specific mention of a renewal of any treaty is
made. Then in 306, according to Livy (1x.4; 26), Carthaginian envoys
went once again to Rome where the treaty was renewed (renovatum) for
the third time (¢ertio); the later treaty of 279/8 was described by the Livian
Epitomator (x11) as ‘quarto .. . renovatum (‘renewed for the fourth
time’: p. 518). Thus if Livy’s ‘renovatum’ is taken literally, there were
five treaties down to and including that of 279/8 (an original one which
was four times renewed); alternatively the word may be used merely to
indicate that there were three and four agreements. If the latter view is

38 So Sordi 1960[J230], 104ff; cf. p. 321. 39 See Ferenczy 1976[A48], 79ff.

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ROMANO-CARTHAGINIAN TREATIES 531

taken and the treaty of 306 was for Livy the third, either his account
would imply an original one in the earlier Republic (at the beginning?)
which he has not mentioned, and a second in 348, or he will have put the
first in 348 and perhaps thought that a second was negotiated in 343 when
the Carthaginians may have expected more than verbal thanks for their
golden crown. If on the other hand renovatum is taken to imply five
treaties, then four will have been made before 279/8 and this would leave
room for the so-called Philinus treaty, if in fact that represented a
separate negotiation.

In general the 340s were years when the Carthaginians would wish to
ensure Roman friendship and to limit their active interest outside Italy.
After the overthrow of Hanno’s attempt to establish a tyranny at
Carthage, the aristocratic regime was now firmly established, and was
planning renewed interference in Sicily where Timoleon intervened in
Syracuse after the struggles of Dionysius II and Dion for the city. In 3.43
the Carthaginians sent a force to Syracuse where it met with little success.
They followed this up some two years later by despatching a much more
imposing expedition, only to see it soundly defeated by Timoleon in a
great battle by the river Crimisus. While the Sicilian Greeks were facing
these difficulties, the Greeks of southern Italy, who were struggling to
maintain themselves against pressure from the Bruttians and Lucanians
in their mountainous hinterland, were forced to seek help from a series of
Greek mercenary commanders, of whom the first, Archidamus of
Sparta, arrived in Italy in 343. Although this area in the extreme south
still lay beyond the political horizon of the Romans, they may neverthe-
less have been glad to renew their good relations with Carthage, just in
case she might (in the event of victories in Sicily) think of interfering with
the Greeks in South Italy.

But there was another sensitive area nearer Latium, namely Campania,
to which Roman interests were clearly extending, whatever may be
thought of the details of the First Samnite War which was alleged to have
commenced in 343 (p. 359). Rome might well wish to receive some
acknowledgement from Carthage of these extending interests, while
Carthage would wish to see such an important market as Campania
remaining open to her merchants. Thus general events throughout the
central Mediterranean world would lead Rome and Carthage in the 340s
to renew their earlier ties: if there was any formal agreement in 343, it
could either have been a reiteration of the previous treaty or might even
have included some new terms and thus qualify as one of Livy’s treaties.
It may be objected that two treaties in five years are unlikely, but the
horizon had changed somewhat for both parties: in 343 Carthage was
face to face with Timoleon, as was Rome both with the Samnites and the
threat of the Great Latin War.

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532 II. CARTHAGE AND ROME

The fact ofa treaty in 306 (Livy 1x.43.26) should be accepted, although
its content is unknown except in so far as it can be surmised from Rome’s
position in Italy and possibly from the essential clause of the ‘Philinus’
treaty. Rome was much stronger than in 348 or 343: she was encircling
Samnium and seemed about to emerge victorious from her long struggle
with its people (pp. 372ff). Carthage too seemed poised on the edge of
victory over Agathocles whose invasion of Africa had suffered defeat in
307, while a Carthaginian army was besieging Syracuse. Thus both Rome
and Carthage, confident of victory yet conscious of the uncertainties of
war, might think it wise to negotiate from growing strength — in case that
strength should suffer any unexpected set-back. The treaty is therefore
likely to have recognized Rome’s new position in Italy. This is made
more probable by Polybius’ statement that in the treaty between Rome
and Carthage made in 279/8 during the Pyrrhic War, they agreed to
‘maintain all the previous agrements’ (111.25.2). Now it is unlikely that
the Romans in 279, when they had contacts with the extreme south of
Italy, would have been content to see their interests restricted largely to
Latium as under Polybius’ first two treaties: in consequence a wider
definition of their Italian interests might be expected in the treaty of 306
(whether or not any extension occurred in 343, if there was an agreement
that year). This thought has led some scholars to suppose that the treaty
of 306 contained the far-reaching agreement which according to Philinus
defined Italy and Sicily as the respective spheres of interest of Rome
and Carthage and forbade either to interfere in the other’s territory (cf.
PP. 4573 475):

The existence of a formal agreement that Carthage should refrain from
interfering in Italy and the Romans in Sicily was asserted by the Sicilian
historian Philinus according to the express statement of Polybius
(111.26.2-5) who indignantly denied the fact, pointing out that such a
treaty, had it existed, would have involved the Romans in treaty-
breaking when they crossed over to Sicily at the beginning of the First
Punic War in 264: ‘there is, as a fact, no such documentat all, nor ever was
there’. The basis of this vehement denial was that Polybius found no such
treaty in the treasury of the aediles.

In other matters Polybius regarded Philinus asa reliable historian and
even used his work as one of the two main sources for his own history of
the First Punic War, balancing the pro-Carthaginian Philinus with the
pro-Roman Fabius. Of these two historians he wrote (1.14.2f): ‘judging
from their lives and principles, 1 do not suppose that they intentionally
stated what was false, but 1 think that they are in much the same state of
mind as men in love. Partisanship and complete prepossession made
Philinus think that all the actions of the Carthaginians were characterized
by wisdom, honour and courage: those of the Romans by the reverse.

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ROMANO-CARTHAGINIAN TREATIES 533

Fabius thought the exact opposite.’ Polybius’ outburst against Philinus
was therefore based on an honest belief that he was mistaken on an issue
in which the honour of Rome was involved. Indeed Polybius goes so far
as to admit that the Romans could be blamed for their alliance with the
Mamertines which ultimately led to their intervention in Sicily, but he
will not have it that they crossed the Straits in contravention of a treaty
and of their solemn oaths.

If therefore the essential honesty of neither historian is to be im-
pugned, one or other may have been the victim of national propaganda.
So little is known about Philinus that any question of his having
consulted the archives in Carthage must remain completely open, as also
must the state and completeness of any such records. In view of the
commercial activities of the Carthaginians and Aristotle’s remarks about
their treaty-making, their record office was probably well looked after
and there is no reason why Philinus’ treaty, if it existed, should not have
been preserved in Carthage, and since by implication it branded Rome as
the aggressor in 264, there would be no need to conceal it from any
enquirer. For the Romans the boot was on the other foot, and national
honour would gain by the suppression of any copy in their archives.
Indeed some scholars go so far as to suppose that at some point the treaty
was deliberately destroyed in the interests of Rome’s good name. This
presumably could have been done by a clerk at the record office at the
instigation of some higher authority (after all, in 52 B.c. Pompey broke
into the Aerarium and altered the text of a law on his own responsibility:
Suet. Ia/. 28.3).

Alternatively, if not deliberately ‘mislaid’, the Roman copy of the
treaty could simply have been lost in the course of time. We know little
about the filing of state documents in the time of Polybius and nothing
about the treasury (raptetov) of the aediles beyond his reference to it: was
it an organized record office or merely a store-room? But we do know
that Roman handling of documents was unexpectedly haphazard in the
days of Cicero who complained bitterly: ‘we have no guardianship of the
laws, and therefore they have to be whatever our clerks (apparitores) want
them to be: we get them from the state copyists (a /ibrariis) but have no
official records. The Greeks were more careful about this, for they
elected guardians of the law, vopoddAaxes’ (Leg. 111.46). About the
Philinus treaty we can only speculate. If there was a bronze copy like the
three treaties quoted by Polybius, it could have been turned to the wall in
order to use the back for another inscription (as was done later to the Lex
Acilia to provide for the /ex agraria now on the reverse*°). However, all
original treaties must have been written documents on skin or papyrus

40 H.B. Mattingly JRS 59 (1969), 138.

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534 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

sworn to by the contracting parties, who presumably would file copies in
their own archives, and we cannot be certain that all treaties were also set
up in bronze. If only the original written document survived, it would be
more difficult to trace, more easily lost and more easy to suppress. So
Polybius’ failure to find such a document (whether by personal search or
through the medium of his friends) cannot be regarded as sure proof that
it never existed. On the other hand, if the non-existence of such a treaty
redounded to Rome’s interest in 264, equally its existence could have
been invented by their opponents. In that case, granted the essential
honesty of Philinus, it must have been the product of the Carthaginian
government or an individual which was deliberately foisted upon the
unsuspecting historian. This is possible, but if true it is surprising that, so
far as we know, no reference to such trickery was made by that great hater
of the Carthaginians, Cato, who was so eager to denounce them as
foedifragi (‘treaty-breakers’).

If therefore the hypothesis of the propagating of a falsehood has to be
balanced against the suppression of a truth, any further evidence which
could be added to one of the scales must come from literary allusions,
direct or implied, and the possibility of fitting such a treaty into the
general series. There is one such allusion: Servius in his commentary on
Vergil (Schol. Dan. Aen. 1v.628): ‘in foedere cautum fuit ut neque Romani
ad litora Carthaginiensium accederent neque Carthaginienses ad litora
Romanorum’,*! where the two /ifora (‘shores’) must surely represent the
‘Italy’ and ‘Sicily’ of the Philinus agreement. However the value to be
placed on Servius’ testimony remains ambiguous, since it is uncertain
whether his statement derives ultimately from Philinus (although this
does not seem probable in view of Philinus’ later eclipse by Polybius) or
from an independent tradition. But more significant perhaps is the
episode of 272 B.c. when a Carthaginian fleet appeared off Tarentum:
‘quo facto ab his foedus violatum est’4? (Livy, Ep. xiv). This illegal
intervention was a cause of the First Punic War according to the words
which Livy puts into the mouth of Hanno when he was pleading to the
Carthaginians to prevent the Saguntine affair from starting a second war:
‘we could not keep our hands off Tarentum, that is from Italy, as by
treaty bound’ (‘sed Tarento, id est Italia, non abstinueramus ex foedere’:
Livy xx1.10.8). This treaty obligation to keep their hands off Italy
corresponds exactly with the dmexéo8at “Itadias (‘to keep away from
Italy’) of the Philinus agreement. Since the Punic fleet wisely did not
press its effort to help the Tarentines against the Romans, the incident
was merely a technical breach of obligations and did not immediately

41 “It was provided by treaty that the Romans should not approach the shores of the Carthaginians

nor the Carthaginians those of the Romans.’
42 *This action involved a breach of the treaty on their part.’

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ROMANO-CARTHAGINIAN TREATIES 535

lead to any undesirable consequences. Finally, another agreement points
in the same direction. In the treaty which Rome made with Carthage in
279/8 during the Pyrrhic War (Polybius’ third treaty) it was enacted that
‘it may be lawful to assist each other in the territory of the party who is the
victim of [Pyrrhus’] aggression’, namely Sicily or Campania and Latium
(below p. 536). This clause implies that in 279/8 a legal barrier precluded
the Carthaginians from landing in Italy and the Romans from crossing to
Sicily.

If in view of these scraps of evidence some such reciprocal self-
denying agreement, defining Italy and Sicily as ‘spheres of influence’,
seems probable, when was it negotiated? The year 306 has much in its
favour, but some think it a little too early and that Rome would scarcely
claim to speak for all Italy before she had become involved with the
Greek cities in the toe and heel, and that the Carthaginians would not be
worrying about any possible Roman interference in Sicily. On the other
hand in 306 Rome doubtless felt that both Samnites and Etruscans were
virtually defeated and that she had no substantial rivals in all Italy. If she
thought of the Italiotes, she may well have asserted an inclusive claim to
all Italy in order soon to be able to deal with them free from Carthaginian,
though not as events turned out from Greek, external interference.
Alternatively, if 306 be rejected, some have tried to link the agreement to
the Pyrrhus treaty of 279/8, by suggesting that it was a secret clause of
this third Polybian pact, diplomatically arranged by Mago on his visit to
Rome,*3 but this clashes with another clause which allowed the sending
of troops on Carthaginian ships to Italy or Sicily. Others“ incline to
suppose that the treaty of 279/8 contained some vague, but not explicit,
recognition of spheres of influence and that after the First Punic War this
was built up by Carthaginian propaganda, to which Roman propagan-
dists will have replied by exaggerating the incident of the Punic fleet at
Tarentum. Finally, it may be noted that if the interdict is accepted as
having some sort of historical basis, its application need not have been
absolute: like the later Ebro treaty which forbade the Carthaginians to
cross the Ebro only éi 7oAduw (‘to wage war’) (Pol. 1.13.7), its ban may
have been military and political rather than commercial.*

Even less certain, both in fact and in dating, is the possible appearance
of Corsica in one of these treaties. In the passage of Servius quoted above

43 So Schachermeyr 1930[K 165], 378-80 and Heuss 1949[K180], 459-Go. Secret treaties or
clauses were virtually unknown in the world of Greek diplomacy (see G.E.M. de Ste Croix, CQ $1
(1963), 114) and such a clause is highly improbable in Pyrrhus’ treaty.

“4 See De Sanctis 1907—-64[A37], 111.100 and Walbank 195 7—79[B182], 1.354.

45 Historians who have recently argued in favour of the Philinus treaty (306) include Meister
1970[K 154}, 408-23; 1975[B107], 124; Mitchell 1971[K 156], 633-55. Cf. also Hampl 1972[K179],
422ff, Musti 1972[Brzo], 1139f. The attack on the treaty has been renewed by Badian 1980[K139],
161-9.

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536 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

he adds that by treaties Corsica should become a no man’s land: ‘in
foederibus similiter cautum est ut Corsica esset media inter Romanos et
Carthaginienses’. Although Polybius in another context (1.10.5) says that
Carthage was mistress of all the islands in the Sardinian and Tyrrhenian
seas, there is no direct evidence that these included Corsica, which the
Romans captured (from the natives?) in 259. Since the island does not
appear as a bone of contention between Rome and Carthage before 264, it
might well have figured ina clause omitted (carelessly?) by Polybius or in
a treaty which Polybius did not know. The most likely is the Philinus
agreement, since Servius apparently links the two, and if Corsica did not
appear in any treaty why did Servius or his source mention it? Did they
just invent it, and if so why? Or is it merely some busybody’s gloss?

The agreement of 279/8, Polybius’ third treaty, was probably made
just after Pyrrhus had defeated the Romans at Ausculum: the
Carthaginians, who were not at war with Pyrrhus, nevertheless feared
that he might gain a final victory over the Romans and then be tempted to
cross to Sicily to help the Greek cities. Thus in order to keep Pyrrhus in
Italy, they negotiated afresh with Rome. As we have seen, they agreed to
maintain all earlier agreements: these almost certainly included a fairly
extensive recognition of Roman interests in Italy and indeed, if the
‘Philinus’ treaty be accepted as pre-Pyrrhic, the whole of Italy will have
been included. Polybius then adds (111.25.3—6) the new arrangements: ‘If
they make a written alliance (symmachia) against Pyrrhus, let them make
it, each or both, with such provision that they may be allowed to assist
each other in the territory of the party who is the victim of aggression.’
Such potential mutual aid was thus permissive, not obligatory. Then
followed two clauses providing help for the Romans: ‘no matter which
party requires help, the Carthaginians are to provide the ships for
transport and return journey (reading d¢odov), but each shall provide the
pay for its own men. The Carthaginians, if necessary, shall come to the
help of the Romans by seaalso, but no one shall compel the crews to land
against their will.’

The treaty was presumably negotiated by the Carthaginian admiral
Mago who appeared off the mouth of the Tiber with an imposing fleet of
120 ships, offering Rome help. The chronology (with the possibility of
two visits) and many details of the episode are obscure.*’ A patriotically

# This is the translation by F. W. Walbank, with the change of ‘alliance with’ to ‘alliance against’,
a view which he himself now favours, since symmachia is a strange word for a potential peace,
especially one that might be made sometime by partners who were not even yet in alliance against
Pyrrhus. This interpretation was put forward independently by Meister 1970{[K154], 408-23 (cf.
1975[B107], 136) and by Mitchell 1971[K156], 648ff: it is attractive.

47 See Justin. xvit.2; Val. Max. 1.7.10. Passerini 1943[J 283], 92-112 dates Mago’s visit to late
279 and the treaty to early 278. Cf. Rosenthal-Lefkowitz 1959[J285], 147-77; Petzold 1969[B136],
149ff; Hampl 1972[K179], 412ff. For further discussion of the background and context of the treaty

see pp. 475ff.

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 537

slanted version depicts the Romans brusquely refusing aid. No doubt no
direct military aid was accepted (and the modern theory that Mago
handed over a large sum of money is not based on direct ancient
testimony, though in view of the golden crown offered in 343 he may not
have come empty-handed); nevertheless the result of the visit was the
agreement which Polybius records. The great size of the Punic armada
merely reinforced the importance that Carthage placed on trying to keep
Pyrrhus out of Sicily by negotiating with Rome. If it was designed to
impress Rome with the strength of Carthage, it was the strength of anally
of over two hundred years standing.

The history of these early treaties must remain uncertain in many
points; all that has been attempted here is to set forth their recorded
terms, to indicate the evidence and to suggest a probable pattern of
development. A vast number of alternative and often mutually contra-
dictory solutions have been advanced since the days of Mommsen. They
tend to fall into four categories: those which set Polybius’ first treaty
either at the beginning of the Republic or in the fourth century, and those
which either do or do not accept a maximum of three treaties. Many
combinations have been attempted, but no single solution has been
found to convince everyone. What does result very clearly is that for a
very long period of time both cities found it in their mutual self-interest
to maintain friendly agreements which would last as long as Carthage
was prepared not to promote her commercial interests in certain areas by
aggressive force and Rome was primarily concerned with the peoples of
Italy. However, Carthaginian concern with the Greeks in Sicily and
Roman concern with the Greeks in southern Italy unfortunately ulti-
mately brought the two powers face to face across the narrow Straits of
Messana.

IH. THE FIRST PUNIC WAR
(a) The Mamertines and war

A slight shadow may have been cast on the age-old good relations
between Rome and Carthage by the appearance of the Punic fleet off
Tarentum in 272 B.C. (p. 534), but no crisis had followed. However, the
development of events in Sicily (Map 13) offered some substance to the
alleged prophetic remark made by Pyrrhus when he was leaving the
island: ‘What a cockpit (literally “wrestling-ground’} we are now leaving
for Carthaginian and Roman to fight in’ (Plut. Pyrrh. 23.8: p. 481). For
decades the Carthaginians had kept up persistent pressure on the Sicilian
Greeks: though their expansion had been checked first by Agathocles
and then by Pyrrhus, they had returned to the attack, defeated the
Syracusan fleet and reduced the Greek cities of central Sicily. But this was
not the only threat that faced Syracuse. For some time eastern Sicily had

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CARTHAGE AND ROME

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 539

been subjected to attacks from the Mamertines, Agathocles’ discharged
Italian mercenaries who had seized Messana between 288 and 283 and,
though temporarily checked by Pyrrhus, continued to plunder the
surrounding countryside, Carthaginian and Greek alike. Syracuse under
its strategos Hiero made two attempts to deal with them: after an initial
defeat (¢. 275/4), a few years later (either ¢. 269 or ¢. 265) he captured
Halaesa and Tyndaris, routed the Mamertines on the river Longanus,
and assumed the title of king.48 He then advanced against Messana, but
Carthage was not willing to allow Syracuse to capture a key position
which controlled the Straits: a Punic admiral, who was off Lipara
keeping an eye on events, intervened and installed a Carthaginian
garrison in the citadel of Messana with the approval of the Mamertines.
Hiero accepted the situation and withdrew, disappointing the hopes of
the poet Theocritus (Id. xv1.76ff) that he would continue the struggle
like a hero of old, while the Carthaginians added to their success by
occupying Tyndaris. But the Mamertines were uncomfortable about
their acceptance of the Punic garrison, since they had no desire to become
permanently subservient to Carthage and yet lacked the strength to stand
on their own feet after their losses at the Longanus battle, especially as
they were no longer helped by the rebel garrison in Rhegium. Some
therefore proposed to seek a more formal agreement with Carthage by
which their independence would be respected, but others, who argued
that help should be sought from a less alien people, the Romans, and that
the Punic garrison should be asked to withdraw, gained the day.
The three main actors in the developing drama may well have recalled
the consequences of another recent appeal for Roman help which had
been made by Rhegium, Messana’s neighbour across the Straits. The
cause of this appeal according to Polybius (1.7.6) was apprehension of
attack by Pyrrhus and fear of the Carthaginians who controlled the sea,
though Dionysius of Halicarnassus refers (Ant. Rom. xx.4) to Rhegium’s
fear of Bruttians, Lucanians and Tarentines; if the latter be followed, the
appeal will have been in 282, if the former in 280. The reference to the
threat of Carthaginian domination by sea is interesting, even if it is
difficult to suppose that Greek Rhegium had much to fear from Pyrrhus;
indeed the Mamertines might seem a greater threat. However that may
be, the Romans installed a garrison of Campanian troops of uncertain
number (the sources vary between 1200 and 4500), but before long it
imitated the conduct of the Mamertines and with their co-operation it
revolted and gained control of Rhegium by force. Rome, engaged in her
struggle with Pyrrhus, delayed action, and this allowed the rebel troops
in Rhegium to seize Croton and destroy Caulonia. But in 270 a consul,

48 For a summary of the chronological problems see Walbank 1957-79[B182], 1.5 4f.

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540 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

helped possibly by some Syracusan troops sent by Hiero (Zonar.
v1.6), took stern vengeance: he captured Rhegium, killed most of the
garrison and sent the 300survivors to Rome to be scourged and executed
in the Forum as a public vindication of Roman fides to her allies: Rhegium
was handed back to its own citizens. These events must surely have been
in the minds of the Mamertines, Romans and Carthaginians when Rome
was faced by this new appeal from the Mamertines.

Polybius’ description of the senate’s reaction to this appeal is condi-
tioned to some extent by his use of Fabius Pictor whose account was
obviously pro-Roman if not a tendentious justification of Roman con-
duct, but its essential accuracy need not be questioned. The senate was
divided by the equally pressing demands of right and expediency. On the
one hand some felt that it would be morally wrong to help the
Mamertines who had seized Messana in much the same way as the
Campanian mercenaries had seized Rhegium: indeed the Mamertines had
even aided the Campanians. Rome had annihilated the latter: how could
she be justified in helping the former? But on the other hand possible
Carthaginian reaction could not be neglected; although the question at
issue was merely aid to the Mamertines, few Roman senators can have
failed to see that to countenance or even co-operate in the expulsion of a
Punic garrison might have very serious consequences. It may be that
Polybius, influenced as he must have been by later events, saw the
Carthaginian threat in too sombre a light, when he emphasized their
empire in Africa, ‘a great part of Spain’ (surely exaggerated for 264) and
the islands in the Sardinian and Tyrrhenian Seas; further he suggested
that if the Mamertines were not helped, the Carthaginians would con-
quer Syracuse, master the whole of Sicily, thus encircle Italy and ‘build a
bridge’ (yepupwaat) over to Italy (1.10.5 ff). Now it may be that Carthage
in fact had no hostile intent towards Italy,*9 but that is not to say that
Rome, sensitive to the possibility of foreign invasions of Italy after her
war with Pyrrhus which had resulted indirectly from an appeal by Thurii,
may not have harboured lurking suspicions about the ultimate
Carthaginian intentions. Further, Rome now had allies in southern Italy
and responsibilities towards them. If they were not in danger of attack, at
least their commercial interests might be threatened: what kind of a
trading monopoly would Carthage extend to all Sicilian harbours if she
controlled Messana and the rest of the island, and might not the resultant
economic pressure lead some of the southern Italians to think of casting
in their lot with Carthage and possibly even to seek Punic garrisons as the
Mamertines had done? And how would Rome herself view Carthaginian
control of the Straits which could compel her own weak little navy to

49 As argued by Heuss 1949[K 180], 457-513.

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 541

have to sail all the way around Sicily to reach Tarentum and the Adriatic,
exposed at all points to the dominant Punic fleet? By re-asserting their
protective interest in their ally Rhegium the Romans six years earlier had
secured control over the Straits; were they now to risk the consequences
of a Carthaginian occupation of Messana across the narrow waters?
Surely some such thought must have weighed heavily on many senators,
even if they did not go on to speculate in more detail on the full
consequences of a break with Carthage and the dangers of fighting a war
in Sicily without adequate sea-power.

Roman interference in Sicily, however, would aggravate not only
Carthage but also Syracuse, and Rome had to try to assess Hiero’s
reaction and power. Syracuse has in fact been regarded as the primary
potential enemy by some scholars and this view has been developed into
a belief that it was the potential influence of Syracuse, not of Carthage, on
southern Italian affairs that the Romans feared. The whole course of the
events of the first years of the subsequent war is interpreted in the light of
this theory: the conflict started as a war betweeen Rome and Hiero, and
only in the winter of 263/z, when it was clear that the Romans were not
going to leave Sicily, did Carthage take effective hostile action and a real
Punic war begin. But while in its discussions in 264 the senate may have
given more thought to Syracuse than the Polybian tradition allows, and
though the war started as a conflict for Messana, it can scarcely be
doubted that Appius Claudius declared war on Carthage, not Syracuse,
in 264.5°

The weight of the ethical argument against helping the Mamertines is
not easy to assess. It would be unfair to reject entirely Polybius’ belief
that it genuinely worried some senators. Yet the Mamertines had now
held Messana for a quarter of a century and could be regarded as an
independent state with which Rome could legitimately enter into rela-
tions, while their earlier opposition to Pyrrhus might commend them to
the Romans. Some Romans might even have taken note of the appeal of
the Mamertine envoys to their common Italian origin (6popvAor: Polyb.
I.10.2).5! Further, the parallel with Rhegium could not be pressed too far,
since Rhegium had been an ally of Rome, whereas the Romans had earlier
been under no obligation to protect Messana from the Mamertines.
Some senators may of course have used the moralistic argument to mask
their conservative dislike of an expansionist policy which might increase

50 Cf. Heuss 1949(K 180], 478ff, whose stress on Syracuse rather than Carthage as the primary
enemy has been developed by Molthagen 1975[K 191], 89-1278 indicated above. The latter’s theory
has been accepted by Dahiheim 1977[J157], 16 n. 3, but rejected by Welwei 1978[K 206}, 573-87.

51 A more favourable tradition about the Mamertine occupation of Messana was preserved in the
Bellum Carthaginiense of the Oscan writer Alfius (of the Augustan age): they went to help the hard-
pressed Messanians who invited them to stay and settle (cf. Cichorius 1922[A26], 58ff). Could this
version, even if only Mamertine propaganda, have been in circulation in 264?

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542 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

the power of the people and of any popular leaders whom an overseas
war might bring into prominence. Another possible reason for rejecting
the Mamertine appeal was the Philinus treaty which forbade Roman
intervention in Sicily. Such an argument naturally does not appear in
Polybius since, as we have seen, he rejected the existence of such a treaty,
while any pro-Roman writer who accepted its historicity would be ready
conveniently to overlook it since, if it was still valid in 264, it would have
made the Romans treaty-breakers. Indeed the view could well have been
taken that it was (probably) some forty years old and that the
Carthaginians themselves had in effect annulled the agreement by their
action at Tarentum in 272.

Torn between the two lines of argument the senate after long debate
did not sanction the proposal (77v yrwnv) for helping the Mamertines
but apparently referred the question to the people. Since the immediate
issue was not one of war but of alliance, the body consulted will less
probably have been the comitia centuriata than a tribal assembly, and this
will have been the comitia tributa rather than the concilium plebis because
the matter was introduced by the consul Appius Claudius.52 Though the
people were exhausted by recent wars and needed rest, they responded to
the arguments put forward by Claudius who, according to Polybius,
blatantly talked not merely of help for the Mamertines but of war and
stressed the advantages that would result, both to the general good by
checking Carthage and to the individual Roman from war-booty. The
comitia then ratified 76 Séypa; this word, used by Polybius (1.11.3), has
caused much discussion since it usually means a senatus consultum whereas
in this debate the senate apparently had not reached a formal decision
which it had referred to the comitia. However, since déypa could also be
used for the less formal senatus auctoritas, Polybius may here simply be
using it for a measure discussed but not decreed by the senate.53 After the
vote of the comitia Appius Claudius was ordered to cross over to Messana
and help the Mamertines; since the appointment was presumably made
by the senate, this body may at the same time have given its approval to
the decision of the comitia. But what had the comitia actually voted?
Certainly not war, despite much talk of potential war, and possibly not

52 Polybius 1.11.2 calls the proposers ozparzyoi; here he probably means consuls rather than
military commanders. But as one consul was campaigning in Etruria, the matter must have been
handled by the other, Appius Claudius, alone. There has been much discussion as to which popular
assembly was consulted.

53 Cf. Walbank 195 7—79[B182], 1.60, 111.75 7f; Res gestae 20.4. The difficulty has been met on totally
different lines by Taubler 1913[]235], 1.100 n. 2 and De Martino 1972-5[A35], 11.276ff who assume
that of rroAAoi (‘the many’ who éxpwav BonGeiv ‘determined to send assistance’) were not the people
but a majority of the senate (cf. Polyb. v.49.1 and xxxi1.18.11 for other such possible uses of of
rodAoi). On this interpretation after indecision a majority of senators was persuaded by Claudius to
accept the appeal, and the senatus consultum (Séypa) was then ratified by the people. This view has
recently been revived and supported by Calderone 1977[K171], esp. 25ff; 1981[K172], esp. 3 4ff.

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 543

even a formal foedus with the Mamertines; this may have come later,
whereas the Mamertine envoys in Rome at this point may only have been
making a deditio ((formal) surrender) and requesting help.

After the appointment of Appius Claudius Caudex the Mamertines
succeeded in ejecting the Punic garrison; this they achieved by their own
efforts, so Polybius implies. However, an alternative version, given by
Dio (x1 fr. 43.7—10 vol. I, p. 146f Boiss.) and Zonaras (vi1r.8) may well be
true; while still engaged in preparing his forces, Appius Claudius sent on
an advance guard under his relative C. Claudius who forced the Straits
with little opposition, despite a boast by the Carthaginian admiral that he
would not let the Romans so much as wash their hands in the sea; in fact,
after a slight skirmish, he returned a few ships that he had captured. The
Carthaginian commander of the garrison in Messana was no less cau-
tious: faced by the forces of C. Claudius and Mamertine pressure he
evacuated the citadel without a fight, but crucifixion was the price he
subsequently had to pay for this lack of initiative. The Punic command-
ers in the field appear to have been left without adequate instructions
from home on how to respond to this pressure from the Romans who had
in fact not declared war. While Appius Claudius was still busy preparing
his forces, both the Carthaginians and Hiero, objecting to this threat of
interference in Sicily by a third power, agreed to sink the traditional
hostility between Greek and Carthaginian and formed an unnatural
alliance. Carthaginian troops were sent to Sicily under the command of
Hanno, who proceeded to garrison Acragas and encamped north-west of
Messana; a Punic fleet anchored to the north of the town, while Hiero
advanced and camped to the south: Messana was efficiently blockaded.
Appius Claudius, either before he managed to get his legions across the
Straits by night or thereafter, sent envoys to the Carthaginians and
Hiero, to negotiate for raising the siege of a town which was under
Roman protection.55 On their refusal to compromise a state of war
obviously existed, as was made clear by the declaration of war which
Ennius put into the mouth of Claudius: ‘Appius indixit

5 So Rich 1976[G694], 120, who also rejects the view proposed by Reuss (1901{K 194], 1osff)
and revived by Hoffmann (1969[K181}, 171ff), Schwarte (1972[K199], 210ff) and Petzold
(1969[B136], 168ff), that Polybius has combined into one two appeals by the Mamertines and two
votes of the Roman people: first the people voted on an alliance, and later, after Messana was
besieged by the Carthaginians and Hiero, they voted to send out help under Appius Claudius. This
view gains some support from the most natural interpretation of a somewhat ambiguous passage of
Polvbius (111.26.6) which however seems to contradict his account in Book 1. In view of this and in
the absence of any reference to two appeals in any other source, it may be somewhat bold to prefer his
incidental references in Book 111 to his narrative account of events in Book 1.

58 According to Diodorus (xx111.1.4; from Philinus?) Appius was sent out only after the Romans
knew that the Carthaginians and Hiero had attacked Messana. This view however may have arisen
because of the length of Appius’ preparations; when he was ready, the attack may already have
started.

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544 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

Carthaginiensibus bellum’ (‘Appius declared war on the Carthaginians’:
Ennius, An. 216 Skutsch). But the precise legal position is less certain; it
is possible that no formal war-vote was passed by the Roman people and
that their vote that help be sent to the Mamertines empowered Claudius
to implement this order in whatever way he judged fit. If, however, there
was a vote for war, the comitia centuriata must have met (as the result of a
further appeal by the Mamertines?) and an adaptation of the old fetial law
presumably followed: senatorial envoys (/egati) were appointed (or could
Claudius himself have been authorized to act as deputy?) and were
granted conditional authorization to declare war if the Carthaginians and
Hiero rejected a formal demand for reparation (rerum repetitio).°© At any
rate, whatever the formalities, Rome was now at war with Carthage and
Syracuse.

Rome had taken a momentous step. For the first time in her history she
had involved herself in military action outside Italy. True, the Straits
were narrow and Sicily was almost part of Italy, but Roman troops had to
be carried across and kept supplied in an island when Roman naval
power was negligible compared with the great fleets of her enemies. No
doubt the Romans who had advocated this policy envisaged only limited
action and certainly not a war that was to last nearly a generation, but
they do not seem to have realized the difficulty of containing a conflict
once started: since the protection they had granted to Thurii and other
Greek cities in southern Italy in the late 280s had led to war with
Tarentum and in consequence to Pyrrhus’ invasion, had they any solid
grounds to expect that their protection of Messana might not involve
more than a limited clash with Carthage and Hiero? That they anticipated
some sort of clash when they offered this protection is shown by the
prospect of booty that Claudius dangled before the. people. Indeed
Claudius’ personal ambition and desire for military glory may well have
been among the proximate causes of the war. Further, he was a member
of a family which had advocated expansion in the south and perhaps had
some interest in the Italian world of commerce (pp. 447; 450). But there
does not appear to have been any predetermined policy on the part of
Rome to challenge Carthage, while Carthage certainly wanted peace in
order to maintain and if possible to expand her commerce and her mare
clausum policy. A series of episodes created some mutual suspicions and
the two sides drifted into war. When the minor states between them had
been eliminated or assimilated the two great powers of the western
Mediterranean suddenly found themselves face to face across the Straits

5% For recent discussion see Rich 1976[K694], 119ff, who argues against a war-vote. He also
suggests that the fragment of Naevius which is concerned with the fetials (‘scopas atque verbenas /
sagmina sumpserunt’ ‘they took twigs and shoots as sacred sprigs’) applies not to the declaration of
the First Punic War but to the subsequent peace treaty (cf. Schwarte 1972[K199], 218ff).

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THE FERST PUNIC WAR 545

of Messana. Dissimilar in culture and interests, they lacked either the
diplomatic skills or perhaps the real desire to try to patch up an age-long
friendship which had begun to wear a little thin.

(b) War by land and sea’

Hostilities opened with successive attacks by Appius Claudius on the
separated camps of Hiero and Hanno, but the course of events is obscure
since Polybius gives one account and rejects a different version provided
by Philinus. According to Polybius (1.11.13—12.4) Claudius’ two engage-
ments were successful: Hiero then hastily withdrew to Syracuse, whither
he was pursued by the victorious Claudius who proceeded to besiege the
city, while in the meantime the defeated Carthaginians had withdrawn
from Messana to the protection of neighbouring cities. According to
Philinus’ version (Polyb. 1.15.1-11), however, the Romans were worsted
in both engagements, yet Hiero withdrew. It may be that both engage-
ments were indecisive, with both sides claiming victory, and that Hanno
retired to protect and garrison the Punic cities, while Hiero, disap-
pointed that his allies had allowed the Romans to cross over into Sicily
virtually unopposed, decided to return home. Two hypotheses, though,
not without attendant difficulties, are attractive, namely that Claudius’
advance against Syracuse should be rejected as a doublet of that of the
consul Valerius in the following year, and that Hiero did not retreat until
263 when he was faced by stronger Roman forces.°8 This suggestion, that
Claudius was far from successful, would help to explain the senate’s
displeasure with him, the Roman people’s discontent with the conduct of
the war and the fact that it was not he, but his successor Valerius, who
won the cognomen of Messalla, received a triumph and set up in the Senate-
House a painting of his victory over the Carthaginians and Hiero.

In the following year (263) the Romans determined on decisive action
in Sicily by sending out both consuls, M’. Valerius Maximus (Messalla)
and M’. Otacilius Crassus, with a double consular force and a full
contingent of allies, some 40,000 men. Since Otacilius was a plebeian
novus homo and the Valerian gens was traditionally opposed to the Claudii,

57 In the period of the First Punic War minor chronological problems arise from the uncertainty
as to whether the Roman calendar and the Julian years concided (cf. p. 174 n. 7), and, if not, the
extent of the discrepancy. See Morgan 1977(K193], 89-117, who argues that in the early years of the
war the Roman calendar was regularly a month or more ahead of the Julian, but that between the
spring of 258 and that of 255 they were brought into rough agreement by means of a special
intercalation of two months and remained so for the rest of the war.

58 So Beloch 1912-27{A1t], tv.2, 5 33ff and De Sanctis 1907-G4[A37], 111.109 respectively. Some
consequential adjustments of the tradition are not easy: see Walbank 195 7-79[B182], 1.66f. Cf. also
Meister 1975(B1o07}, 129ff. On the political, as well as the military, considerations that influenced
Hiero see Frézouls 1979[K177], 965-89.

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546 II. CARTHAGE AND ROME

the result of the consular elections must be regarded as a criticism of
Appius Claudius and the handling of the war. A line of Naevius (‘Manius
Valerius / consul partem exerciti in expeditionem / ducit’, ‘the consul
Manius Valerius leads out part of the army on campaign’: fr. 32 Mot.)
suggests that Valerius may have reached Sicily before his colleague; at
any rate his activities are given more prominence in the tradition. The
main task was to free Messana if that had not already been achieved, and
to force both Carthaginians and Hiero to recognize Rome’s Messanian
alliance. The consuls advanced into Syracusan territory, and captured the
border town of Adranum, south of Etna. Many towns soon surrendered
to Rome: Halaesa, Centuripa, Catane, probably Enna, and before long
Camarina, while the siege of Echetla (Polyb. 1.15.10) may belong to this
campaign (the figure of sixty-seven towns, however, given by Diodorus
XXIII.4, may result from the later number of Sicilian towns after the Punic
Wars). Alaesa and Centuripa became sine foedere immunes ac liberae (‘free
and exempt from taxation without treaty’), the only such privileged cities
in eastern Sicily. But the lack of naval power made the task of supplying
the large Roman armies difficult, while they could have little expectation
of taking Syracuse itself without control of the sea. Hiero however
reckoned that the Romans had brighter prospects than the
Carthaginians, and his subjects showed some restlessness at the continu-
ance of an alliance between Greeks and Carthaginians; further, he may
have felt that his Punic allies whom he had abandoned at Messana might
be somewhat luke-warm in giving further support. He therefore decided
to change sides and made overtures, to which the Romans, anxious about
their supplies, readily responded. He was granted a treaty under which he
surrendered his prisoners of war without ransom and paid a fairly light
indemnity of 100 talents (the 25 talents mentioned by Diodorus
(XXIII.4.1) are probably a misunderstanding of a first instalment rather
than an additional annual tribute). In return he remained king of Syra-
cuse and retained control of some thirty miles of territory around the
city, including Acrae, Leontini, Megara, Helorus, Netum and
Tauromenium. In fairness to Carthage it should be added that a Punic
fleet did in fact arrive to help him, but it was too late; he had already made
his peace with Rome. This treaty was ratified by the Roman people and
was renewed in 248. Under Roman protection and honoured by the
Greeks, Hiero enjoyed a long and prosperous reign, remaining loyal to
Rome until his death nearly fifty years later in 215.59

In view of the co-operation of Hiero the Romans decided to send only

59 Eckstein 1980[K175], 183ff argues that the agreement of 263 was not a formal military alliance
(foedus sociale), but a less formal relationship of friendship — anicitia (fAta) — which was merely
extended to the indefinite future (¢:A‘a didios) when renewed in 248. If this is accepted, Hiero’s
frequent aid to Rome rested on good-will rather than on treaty obligation.

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 547

two legions to Sicily in 262, but they changed their minds and sent four
when they heard that the Carthaginians were recruiting Ligurian, Celtic
and Iberian mercenaries for service in the island. Both sides were thus
getting further involved. The new consuls won the support of Segesta
and Halicyae in the Punic part of the island (these cities also became
civitates liberae (free communities)) and advanced against the enemy’s
head-quarters at Acragas. The city lay ona hill sloping down tothe south
where alone it could be attacked. Here the consuls built two camps at
points to the south-west and south-east, and after some preliminary
skirmishes they joined the camps up by a double line of trenches in order
to besiege the city and to ward off the relieving force that might
ultimately be expected. This arrived after the city had endured siege for
five months; commanded by Hanno, it was a somewhat unco-ordinated
but strong force of 50,000 infantry, 6000 cavalry and 6o elephants
according to Philinus (Diod. xx11.8, but Orosius (1v.7.5) gives only
30,000, 1500 and 30 respectively). This is probably the first time that the
Carthaginians made use of elephants; they showed considerable enter-
prise in the very hazardous task of shipping them across the open sea
from Africa, but they seem to have been less skilful in employing them in
the subsequent battle. After some preliminary engagements Hanno
camped on a neighbouring hill to the west and cut off the Roman
supplies, which Hiero loyally tried to maintain. But after two months
(Dec. 262 and Jan. 261) the Punic commander in the city, Hannibal,
could not face starvation much longer, so Hanno gave battle on the
ground between his and the Roman south-west camp in a desperate
attempt to relieve the city with its 50,000 inhabitants. After a hard
struggle the Romans forced an advanced line of Punic mercenaries back
on to the elephants and the other troops, thus throwing them into
confusion and gaining the victory; the Romans killed 8 elephants,
wounded 33 and rounded up the survivors. Thus the first attested use of
the elephant-corps, which had been placed ina curious position between
ranks, had not proved very successful. But the Roman losses were so
heavy that Hannibal and his garrison of mercenaries managed to break
out from the doomed city. The next day the Romans sacked the city and
sold the inhabitants into slavery. This savage act merely antagonized
Greek sentiment throughout the island, whereas clemency might have
swung it the other way. In fact in the campaigning of 261 the Romans
made little progress: though some inland towns went over to them, some
coastal cities, threatened by the Punic fleet, decided to revert to Carthage.
Further, some naval reinforcements which Carthage had sent in the

and 200 cavalry and 4000 prisoners, with 8 elephants killed and 33 disabled, but the Roman losses for
the whole siege are put at 30,000 infantry and perhaps 450 cavalry (Diod. xx111.9.1).

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548 11. CARTHAGE AND ROME

previous year to Sardinia now began to raid the coast of Italy. Thus
events in both Sicily and Italy focused Roman attention on her weakness
at sea.

Deadlock had been reached and it was resolved by action which
profoundly affected Rome’s future. According to Polybius the capture of
Acragas led the Romans to determine to expel the Carthaginians com-
pletely from Sicily, and their inability to take the coastal towns induced
them to build a fleet.61 They must have realized that only by challenging
the enemy’s naval power could they hope for overwhelming victory as
opposed to a compromise peace, and they deliberately abandoned any
idea of a negotiated settlement for a policy of total war. Polybius,
however, may have dramatically compressed a gradual realization into a
sudden revolutionary change, since there is some evidence to suggest
that some Romans, such as Appius Claudius, may have nurtured imperi-
alistic ambitions from the beginning of the war, and that some, such as
M’. Valerius Messalla, may have advocated building a navy before 261
(Diod. xx111.2.1; Ined. Vat. 4); further, the capture of Acragas may have
been a weaker factor than Polybius suggests, and the raiding of the
Italian coast a stronger one. But whether his views were affected by later
reflection or do in fact represent contemporary opinion, the year 261
clearly marked a crucial stage in Rome’s conduct of the war and in her
drive to imperial expansion. Paradoxically, the Roman decision may
even have given some encouragement to the Carthaginians who, unable
to win the war by land in Sicily, may have welcomed the opportunity to
pit their centuries-old naval skill against a people with so little experience
of the sea.

The Romans had no tradition of sea-faring; rather, their roots were in
the land. Under Etruscan rule a temporary interest in international
commerce may have led some to cast a passing glance seaward, but
subsequently they made no attempt to create a navy to counter piratical
raids on the coast of Latium. However, in 311, when their horizon had
extended to Campania, they did set up duumviri navales who commanded a
squadron of twenty triremes (p. 410), but the vessels may well have been
only fitted out when needed and then laid up (thus the army of Appius
Claudius crossed to Sicily on ships from allied towns because there was
no Roman squadron ready equipped). The crews, if not the ships, were
mainly provided by Rome’s naval allies (socéi navales), while after the

61 A milestone from the road from Acragas to Panormus built by acertain Aurelius Cotta has been
used as evidence that the Romans intended to stay permanently in Sicily: see di Vita 195 5[B269],
1off= AE 1957, 158=ILLRP 1277. This view however rests on identifying this Cotta with the
consul of 252, whereas he might have been the consul of zoo, C. Aurelius Cotta, since an inscription
concerning the latter (CIL 12.610; ILLRP 75) is not dissimilar epigraphically: see J. Reynolds
1960[B259], 206f.

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 549

Pyrrhic war, during which Rome had been able to count on Carthaginian
naval help if needed, her allies may well have supplied ships as well; but
these would not number more than some twenty-five triremes and
penteconters. With this development may be linked the establishment of
four quaestores classici in 267.62 But if Rome was to challenge Carthage by
sea she needed far more than this scratch force. She therefore determined
to build 100 quinqueremes and 20 triremes, the latter being perhaps a
replacement for the outworn duoviral squadron. But her ship-wrights
lacked the knowledge to build quinqueremes, since such ships had not
been used in Italy, although for some time they had been the standard
vessel of the Punic navy. The story goes that the Romans acquired a
Punic vessel that had run aground in 264 and, using it as a model, they
constructed 100 quinqueremes within sixty days from felling the timber.
This account has often been received with an element of scepticism, but it
derives strong support from the remains of the Punic ship recently found
off western Sicily (see p. 497). The timbers of this vessel, which were
numbered by letters, were obviously pre-fabricated and mass-produced.
Thus the Romans may have copied not merely details of construction but
also methods of production and by a stupendous effort in fact have
created this great up-to-date fleet in a remarkably short time. Very large
numbers of rowers were required; the majority were supplied by the
maritime cities of Italy while the Romans provided the rest. Training,
however, was needed not only by the land-lubbers of Rome but by
all, since rowing a quinquereme involved a different technique from
handling a trireme (a quinquereme was probably rowed by five men to
each oar, or less probably by a group of three men to an upper oar and
two to a lower). For this purpose wooden stages were said to have been
erected on land on which the crews were trained to handle their oars; this
story of shore-training is perfectly reasonable and can be paralleled by
actions of both the Athenian Chabrias and M. Agrippa in 27 B.c.
(Polyaenus, Séraf. 111.11.7 and Dio xtvut.5 1.5). It is worth stressing that
this new fleet was the result of Roman organization, construction and
financing. At this time the southern Greeks had only small fleets and no
quinqueremes; their main contribution was doubtless to help man the
new ships and probably to supply many officers and steersmen, but the
ships seem to have been built near Rome and by Roman labour.
The new ships, however, were more heavily built than the Punic
quinqueremes, because of the way in which Rome tried to solve another
problem: it was easier to build ships than to gain the necessary seaman-
ship to meet the manoeuvring and ramming tactics of the enemy. The
solution was to turn sea-battles into land-battles by adopting boarding

62 Above, p. 438 (with a different interpretation). A third view: W. V. Harris, CO N.S. 26 (1976),
92-106 (two additional quaestors appointed with general financial functions).

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550 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

tactics. A new device, which the troops called corvus, the ‘crow’, was
invented to prevent the enemy from disengaging after the preliminary
prow-to-prow contact and from returning to ram the less manoeuvrable
Roman ship. A round pole, 24 feet high and 10 inches in diameter, was
erected in the bows, with a pulley at the top. At its base was set a
gangway, 36 feet long and 4 wide; this had an oblong slot which allowed
the pole to go through about 12 feet from the inboard end. The gangway
could swivel round the pole; underneath at the far end it had an iron
spike, while on the upper side was a ring from which a rope passed to the
pulley at the top of the pole, thus allowing the gangway to be raised up.
When the ship went into action, the raised gangway was dropped on to
the enemy’s prow, the spike held the two ships together, and Roman
legionaries boarded the enemy; the gangway could be dropped either
directly beyond the prow or, thanks to the swivel, sideways (but perhaps
only within an angle of some ninety degrees) if the ships were alongside
each other (Fig. 59). Details of the construction have been much debated.
The hypothesis of hinges which would have allowed the gangway to be
raised to a full vertical position should be rejected, since they are not
mentioned by Polybius; rather, the slot in the gangway permitted its
outward end to be lifted considerably less than ninety degrees; neverthe-
less its weight will have driven home the spike on contact with the
enemy’s deck.

The new naval force under the command of Cn. Cornelius Scipio, one
of the consuls of 260, had only a brief period of training at sea. While it
was gradually mustering at Messana, Scipio sailed with seventeen ships
to Punic-held Lipara which he had reason to believe was ready to go over
to Rome. However Hannibal, the general at Panormus, sent twenty ships
by night to Lipara which bottled Scipio up in the harbour. At dawn the
Romans panicked and sought safety on land: Scipio was captured
together with his ships and gained the suitable cognomen of Asina (‘the
She-ass’), though before 25 4 by an exchange of prisoners he had returned
to Rome and was even re-elected to the consulship. This version of
events given by Polybius (1.21.4-9: from Philinus?) differs from a more
exculpatory annalistic account and indeed from a remark by Polybius
himself (v111. 35.9) which made Scipio a victim of Carthaginian treachery.
Polybius goes on to record (ib. 35.9-12) that shortly afterwards Hannibal
himself on a reconnoitring mission with fifty ships blundered into the
Roman fleet and lost the majority of his vessels: attempts to suggest that
Polybius is here unwittingly giving Philinus’ version of the subsequent
battle at Mylae are not very happy, but on the other hand the story of a
Roman success at sea at this point does not inspire great confidence.

63 A version of Mylae: see Beloch 1912—27[Art], 1v.1, 654 n. 1; De Sanctis 1907~64[ A} 7], 11.129

n. 73. But see Thiel 195 4[G736], 122ff, 181f. The historicity of the engagement must remain an open
quéstion.

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 5§1

Fig. 59. Illustrative model of the corvus (the details of the ship itself and its construction are
not intended as an authentic representation). From Wallinga 1956 [K205], pl. 1.

The Roman naval command was taken over by the other consul, C.
Duillius, who was in charge of land forces in Sicily. Here the Romans
suffered a set-back at Segesta, where a military tribune, C. Caecilius, had
been defeated by the Carthaginian Hamilcar (Zonar. viit.11), but
Duillius relieved the siege of Segesta and captured Macella (Macellaro,
24 km. east of Segesta?). Although Polybius (1.24.2) places this success
after Duillius’ victory at Mylae, the Fasti Triumphales and Duillius’
laudatory Inscription (Fig. 60) imply that the land-success preceded the
naval one. At any rate Duillius with perhaps 140 ships, including allied
auxiliary vessels, encountered the Punic fleet of some 130 ships under
Hannibal off Mylae near the north-east corner of Sicily. Trusting to the
inexperience of the Romans, Hannibal did not wait to draw up his ships

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552 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

-CAPTOMAYES: @ DCE uaane
@M@ ta GhGh GD Gb Gh GaGh Gs
QVENAYALEDS, “EDAD POLLO

4B5-

——

EIS

Fig. 60. Commemorative inscription of C. Duillius (cos. 260) recording his relief of Segesta,
capture of Macella, victory at Mylae and triumph. The inscription is of the early imperial
period but may reproduce the original inscription on the column adorned with ships’ prows
set up in Duillius’ honour.

in strict battle order: they rowed straight into the enemy. But when their
30 front ships were grappled by the novel corvi and were boarded by
soldiers, the rest turned aside and tried to catch their opponents
broadside or on the stern. Polybius says that they were kept off by the
corvi which swung found in all directions, but since these ‘crows’ were
mounted on the prows, this would in fact have been impossible; so the
suggestion that behind the first line of ships the Romans had stationed a
second which protected their rear is attractive. At any rate the
Carthaginians were forced to withdraw with the loss of fifty ships,
including Hannibal’s flag-ship, a epteres previously captured from Pyr-
rhus, and some 10,000 men captured or killed. Thus in her first real naval
venture on the sea Rome had won a spectacular victory. Well might
Duillius be granted the first naval triumph in Rome’s history and be
honoured by the erection in the Forum of a column (columna rostrata)
decorated with the bronze rams of the captured vessels. His skill at sea

* Thiel 1954[G736], 185.

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 553

was curiously not employed again: he re-emerges into the light of history
only once, as dictator to hold the elections in 231. Scipio the Ass was
more lucky.

Despite her defeat Carthage still had a considerable navy and a firm
grip on Panormus and Lilybaeum. Hamilcar (probably not to be identi-
fied with Hamilcar Barca) therefore moved to the attack: after inflicting a
serious reverse on the Romans at Thermae (spring 259?), he advanced as
far as Enna and Camarina and fortified Drepana in his rear. To check this
advance the Romans prolonged the command of C. Aquillius Florus
throughout the winter and in 258 sent out another consular army under
A. Atilius Caiatinus to join him. Together the Roman commanders
advanced towards Panormus, where Hamilcar declined battle, and then
recaptured Enna and Camarina, thus confining the Carthaginians once
again to the western end of the island. Aquillius received a triumph.
Meantime one of the consuls of 259, L. Cornelius Scipio, a brother of
Asina, led an expedition against Sardinia and Corsica. This move could
scarcely have a crucial effect on the main issues of the war, but it afforded
practice in mounting overseas expeditionary forces, and it reduced raids
on the Italian coast. Scipio captured Aleria on Corsica (his epitaph with
some exaggeration claims: ‘hec cepit Corsica Aleriaque urbe, / dedet
Tempestatebus aide meretod’ (‘he took Corsica and the city of Aleria: he
gave a shrine to the Tempestates in just requital’): ILS 2; ILLRP 319;
(Fig. 61)), but he failed to take the Punic fortress of Olbia in northern
Sardinia. His successor C. Sulpicius Paterculus in 258, however, defeated
the enemy’s fleet off Sulci: Hannibal paid for his incompetence by being
crucified by his own men, while Sulpicius celebrated a triumph over the
Carthaginians and Sardinians. In 257 all Roman effort was abandoned in
Sardinia, where Carthage retained Sulci and her other colonies. Little
was achieved in Sicily, except that the consul C. Atilius Regulus raided

HONCOINO-FE@IRY ANE-C OSENT)
oY G; Mane: scm TYfAQE VI). EMI NRO
“SCIP ee ae
CEHls OGRA LIS: RE
EGORSICA: EARCOIEN
APES TATED: Sad De
y /
Fig. 61. Funerary inscription of L. Cornelius Scipio (cos. 259) recording his qualities, offices,

military achievements (‘conquest’ of Corsica and capture of Aleria) and dedication of a shrine
to the Tempestates. From Coarelli 1972 [B307}, fig. c.

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554 Il. CARTHAGE AND ROME

Melita (Malta), fell in with the Punic fleet off Tyndaris some 24 km. west
of Mylae, and sank eighteen vessels. These successes were a happy

prelude to a much greater effort for which Rome was now bracing
herself.

Since neither side was prepared to negotiate, the Romans had either to
intensify their efforts in the ding-dong struggle in Sicily or else strike
boldly at the heart of the enemy and thus force her to relax her grip on the
island. They chose the bolder course of attempting to land an expedition-
ary force in Africa, an unprecedented venture for them (Agathocles’
previous invasion would not provide much encouragement). It may
have been their preparations for this immense effort that had slowed
down their activity in 257. They needed to build up their fleet and if
possible to outbuild Carthage. Both sides made strenuous efforts and in
the subsequent battle at Ecnomus the Romans probably had 230 ships
(rather than the Polybian figure of 330), with 80 transports and perhaps
100,000 men needed for the crews, while the Carthaginians put at least
200 and possibly 250 ships to sea.6> Further, the legionary forces, 500
horses and all the supplies that would be needed on landing in Africa had
to be transported. The success of the whole expedition rested primarily
upon the fleet: if it could not defeat or evade the Punic navy, the losses in
manpower would be terrific. In the summer of 256 the assembled
armada, under the command of L. Manlius Vulso and M. Atilius Regulus
(probably a brother of the consul of 257), sailed down the eastern coast of
Sicily round the south-east promontory and embarked their land forces
(probably some 18,400 men) at Cape Ecnomus. They then sailed forth to
meet the enemy who advanced eastwards from Heraclea.

The general course of the battle is clear, the precise Roman formation
less so. The Carthaginians sailed in one long line abreast, hoping to
outflank the enemy; their left wing, on the shoreward end of the line, was
formed at an advanced angle to the rest of the line in order to facilitate the
outflanking on the Roman right. According to Polybius (1.26.10f) the
Romans advanced in four squadrons: the first two formed a wedge-like
spearhead (the ships being in echelon), while the third, towing the
transports, formed a base to the triangular wedge; behind these was the
fourth squadron, nicknamed the /riarii after the usage of land forces.
This wedge-like formation has been rejected by some historians: thus
W.W. Tarn wrote, ‘no captains, let alone Roman captains, could have

65 The traditions and difficulties about the number of ships have been fully discussed and cannot

be treated here; see Tarn 1907(Kzo1], 48-Go; De Sanctis 1907-64[A37], 111.135 n. 98; Thiel
1954(G736], 83ff; Walbank 1957-79[B182], 1.82ff.

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 555

kept station’. Polybius’ misunderstanding, if such it be, could be
explained by supposing that they appeared to the enemy to be in a wedge-
shape (Polybius’ account seems ultimately to be based on an eye-witness
and to come from Philinus, with some additions from Fabius). This
could have occurred either if the first two squadrons sailed in line ahead
and then deployed into line abreast or if they sailed in line abreast and
then the centre rowed forward more quickly than the wings. In the
battle, whatever the formation, the first two Roman squadrons, led by
the two flagships of Manlius Vulso and Regulus, broke through the
Carthaginian centre which was deliberately falling back with the inten-
tion of upsetting the Roman order (and possibly even of exposing the
rear of the Roman front line since the third Roman line was slower and
could not keep up). However, thanks to the corvus the Romans were
victorious. Meantime the third Roman squadron, which slipped the
transports, was forced inshore by the Punic left wing but was saved from
being driven aground because fear of the corvus kept the enemy at a
respectful distance. The fourth Roman squadron was hard pressed by the
Punic right. However, part of the victorious squadron under Regulus
returned in time to save the fourth squadron by driving off the
€arthaginian right wing; he then joined the other victorious squadron
under Vulso and together they converged on the Punic left near the
shore, where they sank 30 and captured 50 vessels. The Roman losses
were only 24. It was a spectacular victory which smashed open the
gateway to Africa.

After a pause to repair and refit, the Romans sailed to Africa and
landed at Aspis (Clupea) on the east of the Cap Bon peninsula. Here they
had good communications with Sicily, could threaten Carthage from the
rear and cut her off from many of her subject cities. They captured Aspis,
ravaged the rich countryside and seized over 20,000 slaves. Then on
instructions from Rome, one consul was recalled with the fleet, while
Regulus was left with 15,000 infantry, 500 cavalry and 4o ships. Realizing
that the Romans were digging in for the winter the Carthaginians elected
Hasdrubal, son of Hanno, and Bostarus as generals and recalled
Hamilcar from Sicily, whence he brought 5000 infantry and 500 cavalry.
Since Regulus was acting with extreme caution and making no attempt
to join hands with some Numidian chiefs who were restive, these three
commanders decided to attack and marched against him while he was
besieging Adys, probably some 24 km. south of Carthage, but they were
defeated on unfavourable hilly ground which prevented the proper use
of their cavalry and elephants. Regulus then seized Tunis where he

6 Tarn 1930{K 202], 151. The formation is also rejected by De Sanctis 1907-64[A37], 11.141 n.
202 and Thiel 1954[G736], 119, 214, but is accepted by Kromayer 1922—9[K 186] Rom. Abt. col. 5.

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556 II. CARTHAGE AND ROME

encamped for the winter, during which negotiations took place. Accord-
ing to Polybius (1.31.4: Fabius?) Regulus took the initiative in order to
avoid being superseded, but Diodorus (xx111.12.1) and others (probably
following Philinus) attribute it to Carthage and war-weariness. However
Regulus laid down such harsh terms (the details given by Dio Cassius (x1
fr. 43.22-3, vol. I, p. 160-1 Boiss.) amount to a complete surrender, but
they are scarcely reliable) that they were rejected. But apart from Regu-
lus’ folly in making any compromise unnegotiable the attainment of
peace was probably impossible since Rome would presumably have
insisted on the complete evacuation of Sicily, while Carthage would
scarcely have been willing to surrender the western end of the island.

By the spring of 255 Carthaginian spirits had revived since during the
winter a group of Spartan mercenaries arrived under their leader
Xanthippus who inspired both commanders and soldiers and encour-
aged them to believe that they could defeat the Roman legions if they
used their strength in cavalry and elephants on level ground. So it fell
out. Carthaginian citizens for long had not fought in wars abroad: now
they had to fight in defence of their lives and they supplied perhaps two-
thirds of a force of some 12,000 infantry, 4000 cavalry and 100 elephants
(Carthaginian elephant-hunters must have been busy making good the
losses suffered at Acragas). After some intensive training this force
marched out, and Regulus, instead of waiting for reinforcements from
Italy, advanced with slightly greater overall numbers to fight in a plain
on ground chosen by the enemy. Xanthippus placed his phalanx behind a
line of elephants, and the cavalry on the wings. The Romans made their
centre shorter and deeper, but they were only trampled to death the more
easily. The battle was decided when the Punic cavalry defeated the
Roman horse and then outflanked and surrounded the infantry; a small
group on the Roman left managed to rout the Carthaginian mercenaries,
but retreated with severe losses as the general resistance crumbled. The
Romans paid a heavy price for Regulus’ failure to strengthen his cavalry
by co-operating with the Numidian chiefs. Regulus and 500 others were
taken prisoner and only 2000 Romans escaped to Clupea; the rest were
dead. The African expedition thus ended in disaster. Regulus’ fate was
soon embellished by legend: he was sent to Rome on parole to negotiate,
but he refused to advise the senate to make peace and returned voluntar-
ily to suffer torture and death in Carthage. In reality he died in captivity
and the legend may have been designed to obscure the fact that his widow
tortured two Punic prisoners entrusted to her in Rome.

Rome’s intention had been to prepare a fleet to blockade Carthage by
sea while Regulus attacked by land. However, before it could set sail
news came of the disaster in Africa: nevertheless some 210 vessels under
the command of the two consuls set forth with the changed purpose of

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 55§7

rescuing the survivors at Clupea.6? Their approach was contested by a
fleet of some 200 ships which the Carthaginians had been repairing or
building. Ex route they occupied Cossyra (Pantelleria) and then, probably
in May 255, they engaged the enemy off the Hermaean Promontory (Cap
Bon) and successfully jammed their opponents against the shore, captur-
ing many ships (114, or less probably 24). They rescued the survivors at
Clupea and raided the countryside for provisions, an episode which the
annalistic tradition (Zonar. vit.14.3; Oros. 1v.9.7; Eutrop. 1.22.2)
blows up into a Roman victory by land. They then started on the journey
back to Sicily, but fresh disaster awaited them. They encountered a
terrific storm between Camarina and Cape Pachynus which drove most
of the ships, hampered by their corvs, on to the rocks: only 80 of the 264
survived. Some 25,000 soldiers and 70,000 rowers (who perhaps in-
cluded some conscripted Carthaginians) drowned in this unprecedented
calamity. However, since the consuls were granted a triumph for their
victory off Cap Bon, presumably the subsequent tragedy was regarded as
due to natural causes rather than to bad seamanship despite the criticism
which Polybius levels at the consuls (1.37.4ff).

(d) Stalemate and checkmate

Since their anticipated short-cut to victory had failed, the Romans now
faced the task of intensifying their efforts in Sicily. Here there was little
prospect of taking the coastal cities unless they could be assaulted by sea
as well as by land, and so the daunting task of building up the navy once
again had to be faced. Helped by the imposition of new taxes a fresh fleet
was prepared and by the spring of 254 Rome again had some 220 ships
and the ability to face Carthage once more by sea. Four legions were sent
to Sicily, where Cn. Cornelius Scipio Asina, who had regained his
freedom and the consulship, captured Cephaloedium (Cefalu) but failed
in an attempt upon Drepana. He then launched attacks by land and sea on
Panormus (Palermo), which comprised two settlements (Map 14): the
Old City which lay between two streams running into the harbour
(modern Cala), and the New City, probably to the south. After the
Romans had stormed the latter with the help of Greek engineers, the Old
City capitulated, where 14,000 inhabitants were ransomed but 13,000
unable to pay two minae were enslaved. Some other cities on the north
coast, including Solus and Tyndaris, now went over to Rome. The
Carthaginians, who were busy checking a revolt of Numidians in Africa,
had not sufficient troops in Sicily to provoke a pitched battle. Their

67 Polyb. 1.36.10 gives the Romans 350 ships, but see above, n. 63. In the subsequent battle they
probably had 2350 since the 210 were joined by the forty which had been left behind at Aspis; they
captured 114 ships according to Polyb. 1.26.11, only twenty-four according to Diod. xxi1.18.1,

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ARTHAGE AND ROME

558

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 559

general, Carthalo, however, made one counter-attack: he stormed
Acragas, which he burnt to the ground since he was too weak to hold it.
The Carthaginian grip on the island was now confined largely to the
western cities of Drepana, Lilybaeum, Selinus, Heraclea Minoa, and the
isolated Thermae, together with the Lipari and Aegates Islands. The
consuls of 253 made an unsuccessful assault upon Lilybaeum and then
unwisely dispersed their efforts by an ineffectual raid on the east coast of
Tunisia, where their ships ran into difficulties on the shoals of the Syrtes.
But more serious trouble occurred when at the end of the season the
consuls decided to sail back from Panormus to Rome directly across the
open sea instead of keeping to the coast: they encountered a heavy storm
and lost 150 ships, together with tens of thousands of rowers and
soldiers, thus reducing the navy to about only 70 vessels for the next
three years. The Carthaginians also were becoming exhausted, though at
some time (probably in 253-251 rather than 255-254) they sent some
reinforcements to Sicily under Hasdrubal. These included 140 elephants,
which in the skirmishing in western Sicily often kept the Roman forces at
a respectful distance, since the legionaries were mindful of the havoc
wrought by the elephants in the defeat of Regulus. During this some-
what uneventful period the Romans did manage to capture Thermae and
the Lipari Islands in 252.

Rome finally resolved on a new effort by sea. The consuls elected for
250 had experience in naval warfare (C. Atilius Regulus had fought at
Tyndaris, L. Manlius Vulso at Ecnomus) and fifty new ships were built,
bringing the fleet up to 120. The Carthaginians also began to build up
their naval forces. But before the consuls left Rome a victory had been
won in Sicily. Hasdrubal, knowing that one of the consuls of 251 had
returned to Rome in the winter and that the other, L. Caecilius Metellus,
remained at Panormus with only two legions, decided to strike before he
found himself attacked by the two consuls of 250 and by Metellus whose
command was prorogued. In June 25068 he advanced from Lilybaeum
against Panormus, ravaging the surrounding countryside, the Conca
d’Oro. Metellus lay low and thus enticed Hasdrubal over the Oreto up to
some prepared trenches near the city wall. Here the elephants were met
by showers of missiles, and maddened by their wounds they stampeded
back onto their own forces. The confusion was completed when
Metellus launched a sally on Hasdrubal’s flank and inflicted a severe
defeat on the enemy who (according to Oros. v.9.15) lost 20,000 out of
30,000 men. Diodorus (xx1t1.21) adds that the Celtic mercenaries were
drunk, while Zonaras (vi11.14) records that Metellus had uncovered a
fifth column plot in Panormus and that a Punic fleet had sailed up but

68 On the chronology (250 B.c. rather than 251) see De Sanctis 1907-64[A37], 111.262; Walbank
19§7-79[B182], 1.102; Morgan 1972{K1g2], 121-9.

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560 11, CARTHAGE AND ROME

could do nothing; this may well be true, since Hasdrubal in the event of
victory may have hoped to invest the city. The elephants were captured
or rounded up (the numbers given vary between 142 and 60). After being
transported across the Straits, they were displayed in the Circus in Rome,
giving the Roman people their first sight of African elephants. Although
the Romans apparently thought them too double-edged a weapon to
incorporate in their own army, the gens Caecilia adopted the elephant as a
kind of family badge and, when mint-masters, they often placed its image
on the Roman coinage. Hasdrubal was recalled to Carthage where he was
impaled.

When the Roman consuls of 250 arrived they concentrated on the
siege of Lilybaeum (Map 15), which was the only remaining Punic base
except Drepana. Their forces, excluding the ships’ crews, may have
numbered some 35 ,000-40,000 men (perhaps under the full strength of 4
legions of 8000 each, and 100 marines for each of the 120 ships). The city,
which lay on a promontory, was defended on the landward side by strong
walls and a deep ditch; its harbour on the north (the modern harbour is to
the south) was protected by shoals which made navigation difficult. Its
garrison comprised some 10,000 men, partly Celts, partly Greeks. The
Romans cut it off from the mainland by establishing camps on each side
of the city and joined them up by fortifications. A close siege followed,
with strenuous attempts to batter down or undermine the towers: the
Romans no doubt learnt much of the technique of siege-warfare from the
Sicilians. An attempt to betray the city to the Romans was thwarted by
the loyalty of a Greek officer. Then Hannibal, son of the Hamilcar who
had been defeated at Ecnomus, boldly ran the blockade with 50 ships,
disembarked 10,000 soldiers and then sailed out again by night in safety
to Drepana where lay the main fleet which the Carthaginians had been
building up under the command of Hannibal’s friend, Adherbal. The
Carthaginian government was kept informed about the course of the
siege by the exploits of another Hannibal, ‘the Rhodian’, who several
times managed to run the blockade (vivid details of his exploits, given by
Polybius (1.46.4—47.10), probably derive from an eye-witness, possibly
Philinus himself). Encouraged by such daring and by a successful
attempt to burn the Roman siege-works, the defenders withstood the
blockade, especially as Roman supplies were threatened by Punic cavalry
from Drepana though Hiero loyally sent help to the Romans. Lilybaeum
was still resisting eight years later when the war ended.

The consuls of 249 took to Sicily 10,000 socit navales who would
provide fresh crews for some forty ships. One, P. Claudius Pulcher,
probably a son of the consul of 264, boldly decided to attack the enemy
fleet at Drepana before its commander, Adherbal, learnt that the Roman
fleet had gained fresh striking power with the arrival of the new crews,

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 561

Map 15 Drepana, Eryx and Lilybaeum.

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562 II. CARTHAGE AND ROME

and also before Adherbal received reinforcements to his existing 100
ships. As a member of the Claudian gens Pulcher was credited with a
headstrong temperament, and is said to have insisted on fighting when
the omens were unfavourable and to have flung the sacred chickens
overboard: ‘let them drink since they will not eat’. However that may be,
his plan was not ill-conceived since he hoped to catch the enemy vessels
beached or at anchor. Drepana lay on a sharp spit of land projecting
westwards; its harbour on the south side was protected by a small island
(Columbia). Claudius’ 120 ships began to sail boldly into the harbour but
Adherbal, although taken by surprise, had time to man his vessels and
slip out along the northern side and round the island and then to fall on
the Roman line which had withdrawn in some confusion and was trying
to station itself in a north-south line with the sterns to the land. However
the Romans were soon pinned against the shore and lost ninety-three
ships by capture, though some of the crews got ashore and back to
Lilybaeum. Claudius managed to withdraw with some thirty ships.
Adherbal owed this success partly to the superior speed and build of his
ships, partly to the better training of his rowers and partly to the fact that
the Romans had probably abandoned the use of the corvus after the
natural disasters of 255 and 253. Claudius was later accused by two
tribunes of perduel/io (‘betraying the state’) and acquitted but then heavily
fined on some lesser charge. This was an unusual procedure for the
Romans who, unlike the Carthaginians, did not even try, let alone
crucify, unsuccessful or negligent generals, but it may have been
prompted by Claudius’ political enemies. However, the result of
Drepana, the only serious Roman defeat at sea, throws into relief the
remarkable series of her naval victories.

Meantime Claudius’ colleague, L. Iunius Pullus, was preparing to
bring supplies to the forces at Lilybaeum. Sailing from Syracuse with 800
transports and 120 warships in two divisions and possibly unaware of the
disaster at Drepana, he was met by 100 Punic ships commanded by
Carthalo who had just attacked the 30 Roman ships at Lilybaeum and
now sailed forth to intercept the supplies. He skilfully forced each
Roman division ashore without fighting, the first off Phintias (Licata),
and the second, coming up under Iunius himself, near Camarina. Then,
anticipating a storm, he hastily doubled round Cape Pachynus. The
Roman ships were exposed on a rocky open shore to the full fury of the
gale and the entire fleet was wrecked: only twenty ships survived and
Rome was in effect left without a navy.® Iunius, who escaped to the army

6° Diodorus’ version of these events (xx1v.1.7—-9) differs considerably from Polybius 1.24. Both
probably derive from Philinus, Diodorus giving an abridged version of Philinus, Polybius having
‘corrected’ Philinus partly in the light of Fabius’ version. See Walbank 195 7—79[B182], 1.117f, who
defends Polybius’ version against Thiel’s attempt (195 4{G736], 287 n. 734) to defend Diodorus.

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 563

at Lilybaeum, then marched northwards and managed to seize both the
old city of Eryx and also the adjacent temple of Aphrodite (on modern
Mte San Giuliano), the most splendid temple in Sicily.?° This was a
shrewd stroke since Mt Eryx rises up behind Drepana and commanded
all the roads leading to the city. Thus stalemate was again reached: Rome
had lost control of the sea, but the two towns in Sicily still held by the
Carthaginians were isolated from the rest of the island.

The subsequent failure of the Carthaginians actively to exploit their
naval superiority is surprising: even more surprising is that they seem
even to have laid up most of their fleet at Carthage. Part of the explana-
tion may lie in events in Africa. Here the Numidians, who had attacked
Punic territory during the invasion of Regulus, had been pitilessly
punished in 254, but around 247 Hanno the ‘Great’ led an expedition into
the interior as far as Hekatompylus (probably Theveste, modern
Tebessa) where he showed slightly greater clemency, though taking 3000
hostages. Since in 241 he was orparnyds év 77 AcBiy (‘commander in
Libya’: Polyb. 1.67.1) he may have been in command of the interior for
some years previously. At any rate he appears to have sponsored a policy
of expansion in Africa and perhaps represented the interests of the landed
aristocracy. He was also an opponent of Hamilcar Barca who was sent as
Carthaginian commander to Sicily in 247 and is sometimes regarded as a
leader of mercantile imperialism, but it must remain uncertain how far
there was any deep cleavage in Carthaginian policy between ‘land’ and
‘trade’, between African and overseas interests.7! Whether it was due to
pressure by Hanno and his supporters, or to more serious and prolonged
warfare in Africa than our sources record which made it impossible for
Carthage to keep botha large army anda large fleet, or simply to lethargy
on the part of the Carthaginians who hoped (very mistakenly) that the
exhausted Romans would get tired of besieging western Sicily and be
prepared to make peace before very long — whatever the causes, the
Carthaginians seem to have missed a splendid opportunity in view of
Rome’s exhaustion. Yet possibly their own finances were strained more
than we know, since at some point they asked for a loan of 2000 talents
from Ptolemy of Egypt, who politely declined because since 273 he had
been a ‘friend’ of Rome and wished to remain neutral (App. Sic. 1). At
Rome also the treasury was depleted and the census of 237 B.c. (Table 1,

70 Junius’ fate is uncertain. Either he was captured during an attack on Eryx but released under an
exchange of prisoners in 247 (Zonar. vitt.15.10; Livy, Epit. x1x) or also having disregarded the
auspices he was prosecuted in Rome and committed suicide (Cic. Nat. D. 11.7 et al.). At any rate a
scriba, M. Claudius Glicia, was appointed dictator (a move by Claudius Pulcher’s friends in Rome to
improve his prospects?) but he was forced to abdicate and A. Atilius Caiatinus (cos. 258 and 254),
with L. Caecilius Metellus (cos. 251) as magister equitum, was appointed dictator and sent to Sicily,
being the first dictator to lead an army outside Italy.

7 Such a clash was suggested by Frank 1926{B 56], 311ff; 1928[K176], 698. Cf. above, pp. 492f;
508.

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564 II. CARTHAGE AND ROME

p. 137) revealed a decline in the adult male citizens of 50,000 or some 17
per cent in the previous twenty years, while the losses of the allied states
must have been of a similar order. Thus Rome lacked the money and the
manpower, if not the will, to build yet another fleet in the immediate
future. But she retained her traditional policy of negotiating only after
victories and so fought on. The consuls elected for 248 were the men who
had already held this office in 252 when they had served with caution in
Sicily. One heartening event was that Hiero showed his confidence in
Rome’s future by renewing his alliance which was now put on a
permanent basis.

Carthalo in 248 raided the coast of southern Italy, and his successor
Hamilcar Barca followed suit with raids on Locri and Bruttium. Rome
replied by strengthening the coast further north by establishing citizen
colonies at Alsium (247) and Fregenae (245) and in 244 a Latin colony
was sent to Brundisium. A raid by some Roman privateers on Hippo
Diarrhytus (Bizerta) did not amount to much. Hamilcar then landed west
of Panormus and succeeded in fortifying a position on a mountain
named Heirkte behind the city; he anchored his ships at its base.” From
this centre with perhaps some 15—20,000 men he held the Romans at bay
for three years, threatening their communications, harassing them by
skirmishes, and again raiding the Italian coast as far north as Cumae. In
244 he pressed westwards and captured the old hill-town of Eryx behind
Drepana, but the Romans held the temple of Aphrodite itself at the top of
the mountain and also a point lower down between the temple and
Drepana, and thus prevented him from seriously interfering with the
siege of this city. The Romans knew that the war could not be won by
land and now that they had enjoyed a few years’ breathing-space they
determined to build a new navy. The senate decided that a loan, repay-
able in the event of victory, should be raised and that groups of two or
three men should each provide a quinquereme; how much pressure the
senate put on its richer members for ‘voluntary’ contributions is uncer-
tain; unlike the trierarchsat Athens, these men were asked only fora loan,
not a gift. The allies, who had had to provide the crews, also faced a very
heavy burden. However, it was a great effort which resulted in 200
warships, built on the lighter model of a ship of Hannibal the Rhodian
which had been captured at Lilybaeum; by not equipping these new
vessels with corvi, the Romans showed that they were going to follow
Punic methods of combat at sea.

72 Heirkte (Map 14) has been identified with Mte Pellegrino (e.g. by De Sanctis 1907-64[A37],
1.181 n. 83; Ziegler 1910[K 208], 2645), though Mte Castellaccio seems to have a better claim (cf.
Kromayer-Veith 1903-3 1{K 185], 11.1, 4; Walbank 195 7—79[B182], 1.120f). Recently V. Giustolisi
(1975[K178]) has found traces of acamp on Mte Pecoraro, west of Mte Castellacio, with associated
pottery of the first half of the third century; this he suggests was Heirkte. A ship found off Terrasina,
west of Palermo, appears to be of mid-third-century date, with amphorae and two Roman swords: it
might have been a merchantman with a military guard or a transport.

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 565

In the summer of 242 the fleet, commanded by the consul C. Lutatius
Catulus, accompanied not by his colleague but by a praetor Q. Valerius
Falto, sailed to Sicily, where there was no enemy fleet to challenge its
arrival. Thus Lutatius could blockade the harbours of Drepana and
Lilybaeum and had more time to train his oarsmen. By the spring of 241
the Carthaginians had raised some 170 ships or so, but they were
probably undermanned and the crews were not well trained; possibly
some 6o per cent of these crews were Carthaginian citizens who did not
usually have to serve in the navy. They planned to land stores in Sicily
and then to embark Hamilcar and his best mercenaries to act as marines,
but they were forestalled off the Aegates Insulae by Lutatius who boldly
decided on action despite a stormy sea. Suffering from inadequate
equipment and weighed down with freight through lack of transports,
they were speedily defeated. The Romans sank 50 ships and captured
another 7o and nearly 10,000 prisoners; according to Orosius (Iv.10.7)
and Eutropius (11.27) the Romans lost only 12 of their own vessels.
Lutatius and his praetor later returned to Rome and were granted naval
triumphs; Hanno, the Punic admiral, who thanks to a sudden change in

‘the wind had got away with 50 ships, returned home to face crucifixion.
Carthage could do no more: without sea power she could no longer
supply her forces in Sicily. The long war was over.

Hamilcar was given full powers to negotiate a peace treaty. He and
Lutatius agreed that there should be friendship (¢:A‘a) between Rome
and Carthage, that Carthage should evacuate Sicily and not make war on
Hiero or his allies, return all prisoners without ransom, and pay 2200
Euboeic talents by instalments over twenty years. In view of Rome’s
losses in the war and of the wealth of Carthage these terms were quite
lenient, and might seem acceptable to the Roman people since they had
gained control of Sicily, the chief objective of the war. However they
took a harsher view and refused to ratify them. Ten commissioners were
sent to Sicily; they stiffened the terms by adding 1000 talents to be paid
immediately and cutting the time of payment down to ten years, while all
islands between Sicily and Italy (these would be Lipari and the Aegates)
must be evacuated by Carthage. This is Polybius’ account at 1.62.8-63.3,
but in his discussion of all the Romano-Punic treaties (111.27.2—6) he
gives the final terms more formally, and these also include the following
stipulations: the allies of neither side were to be attacked by the other;
neither party was to impose any contribution nor erect any public
building nor recruit soldiers in the dominions of the other, nor make any
compact of friendship with the allies of the other. The extension of terms
to include all allies on both sides seems to represent a gain to Carthage
over the first draft, perhaps a concession granted to Hamilcar in return
for his acceptance of the heavier financial obligations. But there was
serious ambiguity: were any people who became allies later on covered

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566 11. CARTHAGE AND ROME

by the relevant clause? The Romans assumed that they were, but the
Carthaginians took the opposite view. The issue later became crucial
when the status of Saguntum was questioned (Polyb. 111.29.4ff). For the
moment however peace reigned after twenty-four years.

Polybius attributed Rome’s success to the moral and political virtues
of her citizens and institutions. At the beginning of the war both sides
were uncorrupted in principle, moderate in fortune and equal in strength
(1.17.12); at the end they were still equal in enterprise, lofty in spirit and
ambitious for supremacy, but the individual soldiers of Rome were far
superior, though Hamilcar gained the palm for genius and daring
(1.64.5~6). Thus the patriotism ofa citizen army, supported by loyal allies
in Italy and by Hiero in Sicily (where it is noteworthy that the Greeks
failed to rally to the Romans despite their long hostility to Carthage),
gave Romea superiority in manpower and morale that Carthage with her
mercenary forces could not match. The senatorial government provided
a continuous drive and direction to the war, but no really outstanding
Roman generals emerged, partly perhaps because of the system of annual
commands, whereas Carthaginian commanders had longer to gain ex-
perience in office; many were very competent and one at least, Hamilcar,
showed unusual ability and determination. The Roman army formed a
very efficient machine, though it did not adapt its tactics to face cavalry
and elephants, but Rome’s most remarkable achievement was in taking
to the sea, in the spectacular series of victories against the age-long
maritime skill of her opponent, and in her determination to build fleet
after fleet when she found that wind and weather were more devastating
than her human enemy. Well might she place the representation of a ship
on the bronze coinage that she was soon to issue. She was no longer a
purely Italian power. Though she had not entered the war with any
intention of conquering all Sicily, she had nevertheless gained the island
and acquired the experience, courage and means that would enable her
not only to aim at a world empire but to achieve it. So judged Polybius
(1.63.9), but he was writing in the light of later events and the implica-
tions of his remarks may be premature. Rome’s desire for empire was a
very slow growth: the seed may have been sown, but it was long before
its shoots appeared above ground.

(e) Revolt in Africa and Sardinia

The end of the war with Rome brought little respite to Carthage. Arrears
of pay had made her mercenaries in Sicily mutinous in 248; Carthalo and
then Hamilcar Barca dealt with them severely: some were cut down,
others drowned (Zonar. vi11.16). At the end of the war some 20,000 who
returned to Carthage were herded into Sicca Veneria (El Kef) while the

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 567

Carthaginians, through lack of resources or meanness, temporized. This
motley assembly of Iberians, Celts, Ligurians, Balearic islanders, half-
breed Greeks and, by far the largest number, Libyans, then marched on
Tunis and put themselves under the leadership of Matho, a Libyan, and
Spendius, a runaway Roman slave. Revolt spread rapidly among the
subject Libyans, and before long to Numidia. Two towns, which re-
mained loyal to Carthage, were besieged, Utica by Spendius and Hippo
Diarrhytus (Bizerta) by Matho. The rebels, who may have numbered
some 40,000 in all, had thus isolated Carthage from the rest of Libya and
forced on her a war that was far more dangerous than that against the
Romans in Sicily, since her very existence was at stake. Indeed the
Carthaginians might fear that the rebels would try to set up an indepen-
dent state, as the Mamertines had done: at any rate they became suffi-
ciently co-ordinated to issue an extensive coinage, which betokens a
degree of political as well as military organization. The first issues were
Carthaginian types, some with the ethnic AJ BYQN added; then came a
series of native types, all with the ethnic and very often overstruck on
ordinary Carthaginian coins, the main types being Head of Herakles/
prowling lion, or Zeus/charging bull. The debasement of the silver (and
of the few gold pieces) indicates the poor state of Carthaginian finances,
while the use of AIBYQN suggests an ethnic basis to the revolt.73
Hanno raised a force which included 100 elephants but he failed to
relieve Utica (spring 240) and the command was transferred to Hamilcar,
perhaps on political as much as on military grounds. With a force of some
10,000 men, including a large cavalry detachment and seventy elephants,
Hamilcar inflicted a defeat on the rebels who had further cut off Carthage
by occupying the only bridge over the Bagradas, which ran between
Carthage and Utica. The tactics of this battle of the Bagradas are not
wholly clear, but Hamilcar owed his success partly to a feigned retreat.
Thereafter on Matho’s advice Spendius kept to higher ground to avoid
the Punic cavalry and elephants. He was joined by Numidian and Libyan
reinforcements and succeeded in manoeuvring Hamilcar into a danger-
ous position, but the Carthaginian managed to fight his way out and tried
to check the revolt by showing leniency to his prisoners. However
Spendius thwarted any hope of compromise by torturing 700 of his
prisoners. The revolt had spread not only to Numidia, but to Sardinia
where the Punic mercenaries rebelled and killed their Carthaginian
commander. When the Carthaginians sent reinforcements to the island,
they joined the rebels, crucified their commander and officers and
tortured and murdered all the Carthaginians in the island. Like their
fellows in Africa, with whom they were in touch, they too issued a

73 On the coinage see Robinson 1943[{K12o], 1ff; 1953(K12t}, 27ff; 1956[Ki22], off.

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568 II, CARTHAGE AND ROME

coinage: this was only of bronze and was often overstruck on Sardo-
Punic issues; it shows the head of Isis / three corn ears or less commonly
head of Tanit / single ear of corn or else a plough.”4 In Africa Spendius
and Matho gained control of Utica and Hippo and moved against
Carthage itself from their base at Tunis, though without sea-power their
prospects were slight. The Carthaginians in fact received substantial
supplies from Hiero and indeed from Rome. They had recently captured
some Italian traders bringing goods to the rebels, but when the Romans
complained they returned 500 prisoners. The Romans were pleased and
henceforth allowed supplies to be sent to Carthage but not to the rebels,
and a general exchange of prisoners took place. These cordial relations
were strengthened when Rome declined an invitation from the rebels in
Sardinia to occupy the island and also a slightly later appeal from Utica.

The “Truceless War’ in Africa continued with increasing cruelties and
atrocities and with no regard for the normal conditions of warfare. Since
Hanno and Hamilcar were at logger-heads, the Carthaginians took the
unusual step of letting the army choose between them and it chose
Hamilcar who soon succeeded in annihilating Spendius’ force at Prion
(possibly near Sidi Jedid, west of Hammamet, but more probably nearer
Tunis). He then closed in on Matho at Tunis and encamped at the south
end of the isthmus on which Tunis lay, while Hannibal (the man who
took Hanno’s place, and possibly the blockade-runner at Lilybaeum)
tried to hold the northern end. But Matho, stung to action by the
gruesome sight of Spendius and other prisoners being crucified, was too
quick for him and captured Hannibal and his camp. He then crucified
Hannibal on the cross on which Spendius had just died and massacred
thirty leading Carthaginians. Hamilcar, forced to raise the siege of Tunis,
withdrew to the mouth of the Bagradas. In the ensuing winter new forces
were raised and Hamilcarand Hanno were forced into a reconciliation by
the thirty members of the Carthaginian council: Hamilcar’s discomfiture
at Tunis had given Hanno’s faction achance to re-establish his authority.
A final battle was fought at an unknown site, with probably 40,000
Carthaginians against 30,000 rebels who were overwhelmed. The rest of
Libya submitted at once, apart from Utica and Hippo which were forced
to surrender after short sieges by Hamilcar and Hanno. Matho was led in
a triumphal procession through the streets of Carthage and then tor-
tured. Thus ended the war (probably in 237 rather than 238) which
Polybius describes at length (1.65—88), a war which ‘far surpassed all the
wars we know of in cruelty and inhumanity’. Carthage thus survived a
ghastly struggle that threatened her very life. Polybius however ended
his account of it in his first book by devoting a paragraph to an event of
great significance for the future: Rome’s seizure of Sardinia.

™ See Robinson 1943(Krao], 1ff.

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THE FIRST PUNIC WAR $69

As soon as the Carthaginians were free from the Libyan war they
determined to recover Sardinia, and since their relations with Rome were
so good, they can have expected little trouble. But when the rebel
mercenaries in Sardinia had been driven out by the natives, had crossed
over to Italy and appealed to Rome, the Romans suddenly reversed their
policy before the island was occupied by Punic forces. If they acted with
decision Carthage could hardly stop them since she virtually lacked a
fleet and had few resources left. However, when Carthage understood
that Rome was going to intervene, she informed Rome that she had prior
claims and intended to occupy the island herself. The Romans promptly
alleged that her preparations were directed against themselves and
bluntly passed a war-vote against her. The exact course of the subsequent
diplomatic negotiations cannot be recovered from Polybius’ somewhat
vague and brief account. It is likely that a senatorial legation conveyed to
Carthage news of this declaration in the form of an ultimatum (rerum
repetitio) and then refrained from an indictio belli when the Carthaginians
accepted their terms, so that war was never fully declared. Alternatively,
the Romans may only have notified the Carthaginians of their decision
and have left it to them to send an embassy to Rome to try to persuade
them to change their minds.75 But whether or nota full declaration of war
was ever passed, no hostilities followed because Carthage capitulated and
accepted Rome’s terms. She agreed to surrender Sardinia and pay 1200
talents — a settlement denounced by Polybius as ‘contrary to all justice’.
This was unprovoked aggression and treaty-breaking by Rome. There
was no excuse. Rome could not justifiably claim that Carthage had
forfeited her rights in Sardinia either because she had left it in rebel hands
for a year or two or because of the previous capture of Italian merchants
who had been helping the rebels, and Sardinia certainly could not be
classed among ‘the islands between Sicily and Italy’ which had been
granted to Rome by the treaty of 241, though Roman annalists might try
to argue otherwise. But some reason there must have been. Rome was
presumably suddenly persuaded (perhaps after sharp differences in the
senate) of the potential future danger of allowing Carthage to control an
island so near to Italy. It is a tragedy that the Romans had not taken this
view in 241 since if they had then insisted on the surrender of Sardinia it is
difficult to see how the Carthaginians could have refused: it would have
caused anger in place of the brief period of friendship, but it might have
been accepted as inevitable. As it was, though in fact an extra clause had
as it were been added to the Peace of Lutatius (the terms were embodied
in an émovvOnx7 (codicil) to the treaty of 241, and not in a fresh foedus),
Carthage felt such a deep sense of injustice that relations were perma-
nently embittered and the way was paved for another Punic war.

15 For the former view see Walbank 1949[G745], 15fand 1957-79[B182], 1.1.49; for the latter see
Rich 1976[K694], Gaff.

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57° II. CARTHAGE AND ROME

POSTSCRIPT. THE EMERGENCE OF THE PROVINCIAL SYSTEM
A. E. ASTIN

The First Punic War set in train a transformation of relationships
throughout the Mediterranean world. This was the first phase of a new
age of expansion, in which already Roman horizons had been extended
beyond Italy, the power structure of the western Mediterranean had been
radically changed, and Rome’s dealings with extra-Italian powers had led
to permanent control of overseas territories. For it is evident that,
whatever motives may have been at work in Rome -— the desire to exclude
Carthage from strategic territories, or the straightforward exploitation
of resources, or even the positive enjoyment of dominion — there was no
intention of withdrawing either from Sicily or from Sardinia and
Corsica.

It is commonly said that the acquisition of these overseas territories
presented Rome with new problems, or at least posed new questions; yet
it may be doubted whether it was perceived immediately as having done
so. In Sicily a pattern of control had been shaped largely by relationships
established on an ad hoc basis, no doubt with much regard to short-term
considerations during the prolonged struggle for the island. When the
war ended it is likely at first to have been assumed that these relationships
would continue of themselves and would function as before; even the
payment of tribute, probably begun during the war and systematized on
the model of the methods used in the kingdom of Syracuse, was perhaps
expected to operate more or less automatically. It may be guessed that it
was this legacy of relationships rather than any conscious abandonment
of an earlier policy which accounts for the almost total absence from the
Sicilian scene of bilateral treaties such as had been employed to shape
Rome’s relationships with the peoples of Italy. Nevertheless in the
course of time Rome did find a need to take new measures — measures the
very modesty and simplicity of which were ultimately to have profound
implications for the manner in which a vast empire was administered.

The administrative provision made for Sicily in the years immediately
after the war is not known. Perhaps there was virtually none beyond a
reliance on messages between the Sicilian communities and the magis-
trates and senate in Rome, supplemented by occasional visits to the island
by senatorial envoys or military officers. At any rate, it is most unlikely
that one of the senior magistrates was normally stationed there, for they
still numbered only four — the two consuls and two praetors — and there

76 This section was contributed after the death of Professor Scullard. Its subject-matter was

discussed by him in his History of the Roman World, 753 to 146 B.C. (1980[A119]) 179-86. The most
important extended discussion remains Badian 1958[A8), chapter 11.

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THE EMERGENCE OF THE PROVINCIAL SYSTEM 571

was much to occupy them elsewhere.” But therein lies a major difference
from the war-years, when the presence of a senior magistrate to conduct
the war had provided also an immediate and clearly located source of
overriding authority within the island. Subsequent events suggest that
over a period of time the absence of this element from the nexus of
relationships began to have discernible consequences. It can be
conjectured that such consequences manifested themselves in uncertain
and disputed rights of jurisdiction; perhaps in difficulties over the
calculation or collection of tribute; and conceivably in disorders. A
possible response would have been a wholesale revision of the relation-
ships, such as the general imposition of treaties on the familiar Italian
model; but a simpler solution was chosen, namely to restore to the island
the focus of authority which had been removed at the end of the war — in
other words, to arrange for a magistrate to be sent to Sicily each year.
Furthermore this was a choice which, besides having the virtue of
simplicity, could well have been influenced also by recent experience in
Sardinia, where rather different circumstances had nevertheless created a
need for a similar solution. The formal seizure of Sardinia had been
followed by prolonged resistance on the part of the native population.
The resulting wars of conquest required the presence of a Roman
magistrate in command ofan army in virtually every year,’8 which in turn
must have created a sense of a continuing need for a substantial military
presence. In Roman terms that implied a continuing magisterial
presence.

Thus in both Sicily and Sardinia the need for new provision emerged
over a period of time. Fourteen years after the conclusion of the First
Punic War the response to that need was implemented. The number of
praetors was doubled, and of the four elected in 227 one was assigned
Sicily as his particular sphere of responsibility — his provincia — and
another Sardinia and Corsica. The latter was a Marcus Valerius, the
former none other than Gaius Flaminius.”? Their appointment initiated a
shift in the meaning of the word ‘provincia’, which soon came to signify a
subject territory placed under the authority of a Roman magistrate (or,
later, pro-magistrate). More importantly it established the pattern of the
administration of further such territories as they were acquired. Each
was placed under one of the annual magistrates, who commanded any
military units assigned to his province but otherwise was supported only
by his personal staff. Below that level there generally lay a mosaic of
territorially defined communities (cvitates) which furnished their own
leaders and officials. Not surprisingly, such a governor concerned

7 MRR 1.221-8.
78 Evidence collected in MRR 1.2218; see esp. Zonar. v111.18 and the Fasti Triumphales for these
years. 79 Solin. v.1; Livy, Epit. xx; cf. Dig. t.2.2.32.

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572 11. CARTHAGE AND ROME

himself especially with jurisdiction and the maintenance of order; and
though he could and sometimes did interfere arbitrarily and with over-
riding authority in almost any matter, he had neither the inclination nor
the means to regulate systematically the general life of his province and
the affairs of its communities.

With the expansion of empire came new developments: different
methods of collecting taxes were tried; in 197 two more praetors were
added, almost certainly indirect response to the recent acquisition of two
Spanish provinces,® and the evolution of the concept of a ‘pro-magis-
trate’ (p. 437) made it possible to extend a governor’s term of office to a
second year, or sometimes even further. Nevertheless the administration
which Rome supplied to each of her provinces continued in the mould
created by the early experiences in Sicily and Sardinia, consisting essen-
tially of a powerful governor who was also the military commander but
who otherwise had no pyramid of Roman administrators below him.

80 Livy xxxu1.27.6; cf. Dig. 1.2.2.32.

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CHAPTER 12

RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

J. A. NORTH

I. SOURCES AND METHODS

The first question to be asked in this chapter is whether the attempt to
discuss Roman religion before about 200 B.c. can be justified at all. There
are good reasons for doubting whether it can; but the position that will
be argued here is that, despite the necessary limitations on our under-
standing of the Romans’ religious life, it is possible to establish enough
about its structure and working to say something, in very general terms
at least, about the relation of religion to society (II, III, IV) and to
examine the phenomena of religious change and adaptation within the
system (V, VI). The purpose of this introduction is, however, more
negative: it is to challenge the validity of the established versions of the
‘history’ of Roman religion and to show why any new attempt at writing
such a history would produce no more than another arbitrary synthesis,
Any treatment of the subject must begin from a radical re-assessment of
the evidence we have and of the possibilities it offers.

The fundamental problem can be stated very simply: the great bulk of
the sources we have for early Roman religion derives from historians and
antiquarians who lived in the very late Republic or early Principate, two
centuries or more after the end of the period with which this chapter is
concerned. It must be very doubtful whether these writers had any
understanding of the nature of early republican religion, beyond what
they could guess or extrapolate from their knowledge of the recent past.
Worse than this, the best-informed of these reconstructions, those of
Varro and his successors, are themselves lost to us; they only survive
either as brief dictionary entries or in the accounts of still later writers
who themselves constitute another layer of the problem, for many of
them were early Christians, plundering the antiquarians solely in order to
show how absurd, valueless and obscene was the religion of the Classical
world which they were seeking to destroy and replace.! The underlying

1 The richest Christian sources for the religion of the Republic are Augustine, De Civ. D. and
Arnobius, Ady. Gent., both drawing generously on the work of Varro, especially on his Antiguitates
rerum divinarum (p. 10). The fragments are collected (with commentary) by B. Cardauns[B26]; see

573

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$74 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

attitudes of these Christian authorities have often determined modern
accounts of the character and development of Roman religion. Even
these difficulties might be less serious, if we at least had a secure
understanding of the religious situation and atmosphere of the late
republican period which produced the writings of Varro, Cicero, Virgil
and Ovid on which we are ultimately dependent; but, in fact, no such
secure understanding exists and it is debatable whether we should even
try to understand the fifth century B.c. before making some sense of the
age of Cicero.

Some categories of information, however, offer us at least a possibility
of escaping these limitations and thus finding a starting point. First, we
have the calendar of festivals of early Rome; a number of copies survive
of the late republican calendar (cf. Fig. 62), mostly set up in or soon after
the Augustan age and containing many late accretions, including ex-
planatory comments derived from the antiquarians.? It was Mommsen
who observed that, incorporated in the extant copies, was an earlier list
of festivals; the entries in this list were distinguished because they
appeared in capital letters.3 The republican calendar as we know it was
basically solar and not determined by the correlation of months to the
phases of the moon; we do not know when this form of calendar was
introduced, though it may well have been in the course of the republican
period; its introduction might or might not have coincided with the
fixing of the list of festivals in capitals. The ritual programme of some of

Fig. 62. Reconstruction of the only surviving pre-Julian calendar (Fasti Antiates Maiores: between
84 and 46 B.c.) for January to April. The calendar assigns each day one of the first nine letters of the
alphabet (in sequence) to aid identification of the nundinae (originally market-days); marks the
Kalends (K), Nones (Non.) and Ides (Eidus) of each month; records large letter festivals (e.g.
CAR(MENTALIA) on 11 January) and other sacrifices, usually on the anniversary of temple
dedications (e.g. to Juturna on 11 January), and assigns each day a letter or combination of letters
indicating whether certain types of public activity are forbidden or permitted (e.g. C(omitialis)
indicates that public asscmblics may be held). For full details sce Michels 1967 {G446}.
Reconstruction from Degrassi 1963 [G388], Tab. m1.

also id. 1978[G 370], Soff. But it is quite clear that both writers cxploit Varro’s material without any
concern or capacity to be fair to paganism — the last thing on their minds; they therefore tend to
emphasize absurd-seeming elements. The dictionary of Festus (ed. Lindsay, 1913) preserves some of
the learning of the Augustan antiquarian Verrius Flaccus (on whom A. Dihle 1938[Bq44], 1636f;
Frier 1979[B57], 35ff), whose work underlies the notes in the Fasti Praenestini (Degrassi
196 3[G 388], 107ff). For a survey of the literary sources, Latte 1960[G435], 4-8; useful observations
on the problems, Dumézil 1970/71[G 399], 3ff; a collection of sources in English is provided by F.C.
Grant 1957{G416], but with much space given to philosophical texts. For further bibliography, cf.
Brelich 1949 etc.[G366}; Schilling 1972[Gago}, 317ff.

2 The inscriptions are collected in Degrassi 1963[G388], who also gives (388ff) a selection of
other important sources for each festival, with bibliography and notes. The most accessible account
in English is Scullard 1981[Ga4ga], replacing for purposes of reference Warde Fowler 1899[G5 08}.

3 Mommsen in Henzen, Hiilsen and Mommsen 1893[D16], 283-304.

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SOURCES AND METHODS

Heic DVS: ane E EDS:

K 1) iO
PERENNA 10M aie

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576 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

these festivals certainly reflects very archaic social conditions; in no case
can it be proved thata festival was introduced later than the regal period.*
Some were still very prominent in the first century B.c., some totally
obscure by that time, even to experts such as Varro. The purpose of the
old list (the feria/e) cannot be known for sure: perhaps it contained the
oldest festivals; more likely, the most important at some specific date; or,
perhaps, there was an unknown practical purpose behind the selection.5
It would be an unreliable assumption that anything not appearing in
capitals must be a later introduction into the feriale. We have, therefore, a
list of early festivals; beyond that, little is certain.

The list of names in the feria/e can be filled out by very mixed sources
which offer details of the ritual and of the stories and traditions associ-
ated with them. This material gives the best hope of progress towards
understanding; the richest source of all is Ovid’s Fasti, a versified
account of the ritual calendar, of which we have the first six months.
There are problems here too, because much of what Ovid has to offer
does not seem to consist of traditional Roman stories, but of imported
Greek ones; it is hard to tell how far these stories were introduced by
Ovid himself, in the interests of variety and fun, how far they had already
been attached to the rituals before his day; either way, we can hardly be
sure that they all date back to the fifth century B.c., though some
elements may well do so. The fact is that much of the calendar of festivals
was handed down, bereft of any myth or exegesis, in the form of a
tradition simply of ritual action. This has very serious implications for
the possibility of a history of Roman religion: it means that the interpre-
tation of individual festivals must be problematic for us. Rituals are in
themselves notoriously vulnerable to re-interpretation by the partici-
pants over a period of time; indeed, to look at it from a different point of
view, the strength of sucha ritual-system lies exactly in its capacity to be
re-interpreted as society evolves new needs over time. In any case, the
search either for the right or for the original significance of a particular
ritual programme becomes not just difficult, but in principle impossible.
Paradoxically, these problems are at their most acute in relation to the
festivals about which we have better information; recent research has
suggested that it is possible to make sense of some of the lesser festivals
and their relations to one another; but in the case, for example, of the
Lupercalia, different meanings were evidently read into the ritual pro-
gramme by different participants and we have, and can have, no justifica-
tion for assuming that one or another was exclusively right.®

A second source of information brings us more directly to the prob-

4 Discussion in Michels 1967(G446], Part 11. 5 Michels 1967[G446], 130ff.
© On the value of Ovid as a source, Schilling 1979[G491], 1ff; for the Lupercalia, see below n. go.

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SOURCES AND METHODS 577

lems of historical development. The annalistic tradition provides a great
deal of our information on Roman religion; much of it (say, Livy’s
account of the procedures for declaring war (1.32.5 ff)) must be seen as
antiquarian reconstruction incorporated into a historical account, but
the historians also claim to know dated facts about religious history.
They record vows, special games, the consultation of religious advisers
and so on. Brief notices of this kind can provide the framework for
elaborate reconstructions; and, even if we cannot test the origin of
particular facts of this kind, it is possible to prove that detailed informa-
tion could survive, at least sometimes. Pliny,’ for instance, records the
actual year in which the procedure of extispicy was amended to take
account of the heart as well as other vital organs; this information must
have come from an early source, because it is dated in a unique way — by
the year of the reign of the rex sacrorum, the ‘sacred king’ who carried on
the king’s religious duties when kingship was abolished; this can only be
a continuing use in priestly records of the dating system abandoned for
other purposes when the Republic was founded. This also means that we
are dealing with a situation in which at least certain kinds of religious
change were accepted, identified as such and in some way recorded.
Priests in Rome certainly did keep records to which they could refer to
establish points of law; and the pontifices in particular kept an annual
record of events, including, but not confined to, the sphere of religion.
Writing down and recording was very much part of their functions.®

So far, the indications are positive; but the limitations of this kind of
recording were narrow. Only changes, not continuities, would be re-
corded; and then only changes of a particular kind, the ones the priestly
authorities noticed and chose to record in their collegiate books. Many
other changes will have happened over the course of years without
record — through mistakes, neglect, forgetfulness, unobserved social
evolution, the unconscious re-building of outmoded conceptions; many
such things would never even have been noticed, let alone written down.
To take these occasional recorded facts and use them to build a straight-
forward history would result in a most distorted account. It is only if the
recorded facts could be fitted into a known scheme of development that
they could be raised to the significance of a historical process. But, in fact,
unless we already have a conception of how the religion worked, how it
related to the social and political realities of the time, how it responded to
change, even the few facts we have are robbed of any significance for us.

These short-comings apply even to the best of the literary evidence we
have; the way in which scholars have sought to overcome them has been

7 Pliny, HN xi.186.

8 Onthe books of the pontifices, Wissowa 1912[G3 19], 513; Rohde 1936[G480]. For the pontifical
annals, Frier 1979[Bs 7].

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578 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

to construct the required conceptual scheme from a set of @ priori
assumptions. The elements of such schemes have been: first, some
characterization of the original or true nature of Roman religion; sec-
ondly, some mechanism for explaining its deterioration or decline.? In
these theories, which are very similar in structure, however much the
details vary, the healthy period of Roman religion is retrojected into the
remote past, the late Republic is treated as a period of virtually dead
religion; the early Republic then provides a transitional period in which
the forces of deterioration gathered strength, while contact with the
simplicities of the native religious experience were progressively lost.
Amongst the mechanisms of deterioration that have been offered are: (a)
the contamination of the native tradition by foreign, especially Greek
influences; (b) the sterilization of true religiosity by the growth of
priestly ritualism; (c) the alienation of an increasingly sophisticated
urban population from an essentially rural religious tradition. In the case
of (c), it is hard to believe that any ancient city lost its involvement with
and dependence on the seasonal cycle of the agricultural year, let alone
the relatively small-town Rome of the third century B.c.'° The other two
are harder to refute, but equally arbitrary; a different approach will be
found below, but it will be obvious at once that there is no self-evident
connexion between any of these alleged developments and the concepts
of deterioration or decline.'!

Even more fundamental are the issues raised by the first element — the
‘true’ nature of Roman religion. As we know it in the developed form of
the later and middle Republic, some characteristics of the system strike us
as peculiar to the Romans and hence as representing a tradition distinct
from that of Greeks, Etruscans or even other Italic peoples about whom
we know enough to judge at all. The Roman gods, even the greatest of
them, lacked personal development and character, while the proliferat-
ing lesser gods were little more than a named function in a natural
process; the rituals lacked any mythical correlates and seem to have
existed essentially as an inherited tradition of repetitious action; the
system offered no eschatology, no explanation of creation or man’s
relation to it; there was no room for prophets or holy men; the antiquar-
ians report the belief that the earliest Romans actually had no representa-
tion of their gods, and some deities never had a specifically Roman
representation.!2 The temptation, seldom resisted, is to summarize by
saying that the Romans were simple, artless, unimaginative and su-

9 For the most influential versions cf. Warde Fowler 1911[G 509]; Latte 1960[Gq}3 5]; for criticism
of Latte’s views, Dumézil 1970/71(G399], especially ro2zff. A new approach: Scheid 1985[(G485],
17 ff. '0 See below (p. 6o2f).

't For discussion of the implications of religious innovation, North 1976[Gaqs5], ff.

'2 Varro ap. Aug. De civ. D. 1v.31 = fr. 18 (Cardauns); ap. Tert. Apo/. 25.12 = fr. 38 (Cardauns).

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SOURCES AND METHODS 579

ieee Euiclee cman
: hows BE SE.

Fig. 63. Bronze sheet from Lavinium (sixth-fifth century). The retrograde inscription reads
‘Castorei Podlouqueique qurois’ ‘to the (divine) youths Castor and Pollux’ (‘qurois’ appears to
be a direct transliteration of the Greek xovpots but its exact sense here is uncertain: R.
Schilling 1960 (G487], 178n.=id. Rites, cultes, dieux de Rome (Paris 1979), 339N.).

premely practical, and hence that everything involving art, literary
imagination, philosophic awareness or spirituality had to be borrowed
from Greeks or Etruscans. Once posited, this conception becomes self-
confirming, since if it be agreed that anything truly Roman must also be
narrow-minded, anything which fails to conform to the prescribed
pattern may be explained as either foreign importation or late
retrojection. The technique can also be applied to the detail of Roman
ritual or divinatory procedures, to analyse Roman and non-Roman, once
again producing circular re-inforcement of the original idea.'3

Can these methods really detect the genuine Roman tradition? The
earliest period about which we can attain any understanding at all is the
period of the Etruscan monarchy; but by that time the religion of Rome
was already a composite of different traditions, including a native Latin-
speaking element, which was already overlaid by other influences. Sixth-
century archaeological evidence has made it ever more certain that,
whatever the political relations of Rome and Etruria may have been, in
cultural and religious terms Rome must be seen as part of a civilization
dominated by Etruscans and receptive to the influence of Greeks and
possibly of Carthaginians too (cf. Chap. 3). The dedication to the
Dioscuri found at Lavinium (Fig. 63)'4 shows unmistakably that we have
to reckon with direct Greek contacts, not only with those mediated
through the Etruscans; and it is perfectly possible that some of the early
republican innovations were also directly influenced from South Italy.15
Recent research has cut even more deeply into the expected pattern of
religious life: Filippo Coarelli’s reinterpretation'® of the material from
the Comitium makes it very likely that the area round the Lapis Niger
should be identified with the Volcanal; but in the votive deposit from
this sanctuary, dating from the second quarter of the sixth century B.c.,
there was found a black-figure pot with a representation of Hephaestus
(Fig. 64); it is thus probable that the identification of Vulcan and
Hephaestus had already taken place, and that the Greek image of the god

'3 For instance, in relation to the techniques of extispicy, cf. Schilling 1962{G488],

1371 = 1979[G4g1], 183ff. 4 JLLRP 12714. 15 See below, p. 620f.
16 Coarelli 1977[E92], 166ff.

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580 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

Fig. 64. Fragment of Attic black figure crater depicting the return of Hephaestus to Olympus
(¢. 570-560 B.c.). From the Lapis Niger votive deposit.

had penetrated to his holy place in Rome. This must raise doubt about the
supposed ‘aniconic’ period, though perhaps a single piece of evidence
should not be allowed too much weight, even in the context of falsifying
a hypothesis. In a different way, the discovery of a religious phenomenon
very widespread throughout Central Italy has similar disturbing implica-
tions. Several sites have now produced substantial votive deposits
consisting primarily of terracottas of parts of the human body;!’ that is to
say, there must have been a number of sanctuaries in the early and middle
republican period to which individuals went when seeking cures for their
diseases; at these sanctuaries, they dedicated terracottas of the afflicted
part. Not only does this imply a major cult which we know nothing
about, but also a type of religiosity which the accepted model of early
Roman religion seems to exclude: for it implies that individuals turned to
the gods directly in search of support with their everyday problems of
health and disease. On the accepted model, they would have looked for
and expected no such help, practical or spiritual. Another recent study!®
has suggested that inscriptions discovered at Tor Tignosa near to
Lavinium come from a cult in which incubation was practised as a means
of gaining prophetic insight by direct contact with the deity. Virgil and
Ovid’? both describe the use of such a technique in early — or rather
mythical — Italy; but this isexactly the kind of evidence which has always

17 Maule and Smith 1939{G445]}; Fenelli 1975[G4or], 206ff; Comella 1981{G385], 717ff.
18 Palmer 1974[G461], 79ff. 19 Virg. Aen. vir.81-106; Ov. Fast. tv.649~-72.

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SOURCES AND METHODS 581

been highly suspect on the grounds that it does not fit our
preconceptions.

The most familiar attempt to provide a narrative account of the
development of religion in Rome was that of Warde Fowler,?° who
sought to place Rome within the scheme of evolution of religion
advocated by contemporary anthropologists; he saw the earliest stage as
‘animism’ and sought to detect in the historical period the gradual
development of ‘proper’ gods and goddesses. The greater complexity of
the picture now emerging seems to preclude at least this particular
narrative account; if we were to abandon completely the idea of an
original core of Roman-ness always identifiable, then we would have to
abandon also any attempt to discover a linear progression and hence the
attempt to write a historical account of religion in this period. The only
other possibility is to take as the starting-point, not a projection back-
wards of supposedly ‘Roman’ characteristics from the first century B.c.,
but the determination of the earliest features by comparison with related
societies. For many years, Georges Dumeézil has been elaborating theor-
ies which would combine evidence from many Indo-European traditions
to discover the internal structure of the systems of mythology that are the
common inheritance of these peoples. He regards this structure as
derived ultimately from the social division of the original Indo-Europe-
ans themselves, which gave rise to a ‘tri-functional ideology’ causing
deities and all related human activities to fall into three divisions: 1.
Religion and Law; 2. War; 3. Production, especially agricultural produc-
tion. Dumézil has been successful in showing that this structure can be
detected both in the most archaic Roman religious institutions and in the
mythology of the kings, especially the first four.2! The problem thus
presented to the historian of republican (even perhaps of regal) Roman
society is that Dumézil has found, encoded in the mythology, a social
organization fundamentally opposed to the social organization of repub-
lican Rome itself, where, of course, the warriors were the peasants, so that
the three functions can have no special application. The theories them-
selves have proved very fertile when dealing with individual festivals or
areas of worship; they will no doubt continue to inspire valuable
interpretations. But if the Indo-European elements they postulate were,
at any period we can analyse, at variance with the actual socio-economic
conditions of the time, then it follows that Dumézil’s ideas cannot

2 Warde Fowler 1911[G5o9].

21 Dumézil himself has written copiously on Rome since the 1930s and provoked more and more
discussion as time has passed — some of it hostile, some supportive. See Dumézil 1941—5[G395], for
an early statement; 1974[G398] (1970/71[G399] — Eng. transl. of the first edn.) for his fullest account
of Roman religion; 1968—73{G 396], latest version of the mythology of the Roman kings. For recent
discussion see Momigliano 1983(G449], 329ff; Sheid 1985(G485], 74ff; cf. above p. 54f.

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582 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

provide the starting point for an account of Roman religion: they may
explain survivals, fragments of tradition otherwise inexplicable, or the
‘meaning’ of rituals; but they cannot help to understand early Roman
religion as a whole. If so, it must be admitted that, in the present state of
our knowledge, no valid basis exists for analysing its early development.
We could construct @ priori theories, but they would be incapable of
verification.

The problems considered take the discussion back to the starting point
of this introduction, that is to the character of the literary source material
on which our ideas are based. One feature of that source material which
must never be forgotten is the fact that the information comes either
from priestly writings as such or at least in forms evolved by a priestly
tradition of recording. The question is to what extent, whether by
conscious means or not, some areas were selected and others rejected
from the material which has eventually reached us: the emerging archaeo-
logical record strongly suggests that the picture is indeed very partial.
To put the point in its most extreme form, what we have might be an
artificial historiographic construction, expressing a kind of official re-
ligion which never actually represented the religious life of the Roman
people. An alternative view would be to say that it does represent a
reality, but only a reality of elite religion not of popular religion, which is
only preserved by the archaeology. The latter form has the disadvantage
of importing a distinction which is extremely hard to prove even for
much later periods and is perhaps just an anachronism. On either view, it
is necessary to be open-minded in assessing what was or was not within
the boundaries of the experience of early Romans. The approach adopted
in what follows is not to attempt any kind of developmental picture of the
Romans’ religion, but to assume as a working hypothesis that the main
phenomena were more or less constant throughout the republican
period; the actual evidence comes mostly from later periods, but we must
either use it, on the grounds that institutional change is fairly slow, or
abandon the attempt to say anything at all. The possibility cannot be
excluded (and will be discussed as it arises) that the picture here con-
structed was valid for the third century B.c., perhaps for the second half
of the fourth, but that earlier republican religion was somehow pro-
foundly different. If so, its character is irretrievably lost to our
understanding.

II. THE PRIESTS AND RELIGIOUS AUTHORITY

In the early republican period there were three major colleges of priests —
the pontifices, the augures and the duoviri (later decemviri) sacris faciundis, the
fetiales were perhaps of comparable importance. These four colleges each

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PRIESTS AND RELIGIOUS AUTHORITY 583

had an area of responsibility and within this the senate would treat them
as experts and refer to their authority. Other groups of priests had ritual
duties, on particular occasions or in relation to particular cults, but were
not, so far as we know, officially consulted on points of religious law.
The principle of collegiality suggests that the priests were interchange-
able for purposes of ritual, that there was no specific ritual programme
for an individual; the pontifices at least also had a quorum system for
taking decisions. When a member died, the surviving colleagues them-
selves chose a replacement. This general view of the colleges needs some
qualification in particular cases. First, the college of pontifices had a far
more complex structure than the others. They had a recognized leader
(pontifex maximus), who by the end of the period was elected publicly
from the existing pontifices, not just chosen by his colleagues; the college
also contained, apparently as full members, the rex sacrorum and the
flamines of the gods Iuppiter, Mars and Quirinus; other priests were
associated with the college — the Vestal Virgins, the scribes of the
pontifices, the twelve lesser flamines.22 The fifteen famines, through the
very nature of their priesthood, suggest a different principle of organiza-
tion; each had his own god to whom he was devoted, he had his ritual
programme which he had to fulfil and he was toa greater or lesser degree
restricted in his movements and behaviour; it is a reasonable guess that
this represents an older system, that the famines had once been indepen-
dent of the collegiate system.

The second area in which priestly activity diverged from the collegiate
pattern concerns the haruspices. They were certainly consulted by the
senate — in the later period, regularly so; but were not apparently
organized as a college, at least before the very end of the Republic.
There is no reason to doubt the reports from the early Republic, but it
may be important that the Aaruspices are sometimes said to have been
summoned to Rome from Etruria;?5 if they were really foreign experts
invited to advise the senate, and not Romans at all, that would explain
their lack of organization. However, haruspices also appear in a humbler
and altogether more regular role, as readers of the entrails of sacrificial
victims; extispicy is an Etruscan speciality and these men too might be
Etruscan or of Etruscan extraction. Alternatively, there might have been
two quite separate groups under the same name — upper-class advisers

2 Wissowa 1912[G519], so1ff; De Sanctis 1907-G4[A37], tv.2.353f; Latte 1960[Gq435], 195;
4o1ff, on priesthood in general: Scheid 1985[G485], 36ff.

23 All the rules applying to the flamen Dialis ate lovingly collected by the second-century A.D.
antiquarian Aulus Gellius, NA x.15.

24 On the baruspices in general: Thulin 1910[G498], 243 1-68; Wissowa 1912{G5 19], 5434; Bloch
1963[G355], 43ff; Latte 1960(G435], 157-Go; MacBain 1982[G440], 43ff. M. Torelli (1975{B266],
119ff) argues for a middle republican date for the creation of the ordo, but the issue is not decided; cf.
MacBain 1982[G4g4o], 47ff. 25 E.g. Livy xxvut.37.6.

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584 I2. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

drawn from the elite of Etruscan cities, lower-class religious specialists
resident in Rome itself. At any rate, their status as outside advisers,
whether really or fictionally outside, gives them an ambivalent but
influential position; it is not surprising that they also stood outside the
normal organization of the Roman colleges. In the conception of the
later Romans, Etruria represented an alien religious tradition; from what
is now known about the influence of Etruscan practice in the sixth
century B.c. and even later, it could be argued that this later view was
wrong; but that does not change the significance of what the Romans
themselves believed.

There can be no question of placing these various priestly groups in
any kind of hierarchy of religious authority. The more important col-
leges had their own area of concern and of expertise, within which sphere
the others never interfered. The pontifex maximus had very limited
disciplinary powers, but mostly in relation to the priests and priestesses
of his own college — the Vestals, the rex and the flamines.76 In general, the
position of the priests can only be understood in relation to the rest of the
city’s constitutional system. The capacity for religious action and the
capacity for religious decision-making were widely diffused among
different Roman authorities and it is not a simple matter to say where the
central power of controlling the relations of the Romans and their gods
was located. The first step will be to examine the work of the major
colleges.

The augurs (augares) were the experts on the taking of the auspices
(auspicia) by a variety of techniques to establish the will of the gods.?’
That is not to say that they were themselves the takers of the auspices: it
was usually the magistrates who carried out the ceremonies in their roles
as war-leaders or as political or legal actors. In the normal case, an augur
would be present as adviser, perhaps as witness; after the event, the
augural college would be the source of judgement on the legality of what
had been done or not done. The earliest and best-known modes of taking
the auspices were derived from the flight and activity of particular
species of birds, but the augurs also dealt with the interpretation of
thunder and lightning, the behaviour of certain animals and so on.?8
They seem to have had nothing at all to do with the reading of entrails at
sacrifices, which was the business of haruspices, and they were not
consulted about the interpretation of prodigies. Most characteristically,
they were concerned with the interpretation of normal ‘natural’ events,
as indications of the attitude of the gods; sometimes, signs came unasked

2% Wissowa 1912[G5r9], sogff; Guizzi 1968[G423]; cf. Bleicken 1957[G353], 3454.

27 On the augurs in general: Warde Fowler 1911(Gso9], 292ff; Wissowa 1912[Gy19], 52345
Dumézil 1970/71[G399], 594ff; Catalano 1960[G 377]; 1978{G378]; Linderski 1986[G437], 2146f.

2% Wissowa 1912[{Gs1g], 231-2; Linderski 1986[G437], 2226f.

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PRIESTS AND RELIGIOUS AUTHORITY 585

and carried their own meaning (signa ob/ativa); but, in relation to a
proposed course of action, a particular question was asked and the
answer depended on the direction from which the sign came. The taker
of the auspices defined a templum in the heavens, a rectangle in which he
specified left, right, front and back; the meaning of the sign depended on
its spatial relationship to these defined points. The celestial rectangle had
an earthly correlate to which the same term was applied; a ‘temple’ in our
sense of the word might or might not be a ¢fempl/um in this sense; the
‘temple’ of Vesta, for instance, was an aedes not a templum. It was also
possible for an earthly temp/um not to bea temple in our sense; such were
the senate-house (the senate could not meet elsewhere than in a temp/um),
the Comitium and the augurs’ own centre for taking auspices, the
auguraculum2° The augurs’ science, therefore, concerned not just the
interpretation of signs, but the definition of boundaries, or perhaps
the purification of bounded spaces. They had, in fact, a system of the
categorization of space within and without the city, and also of the
outside world in relation to Rome. This categorization corresponded
to the different types of auspices: the most famous example was the
pomerium, the augural boundary of the city, which was the limit of the
‘urban auspices’ (auspicia urbana).>'

All public action in Rome took place within space and according to
rituals falling within the province of the augurs. Major decisions were
taken in areas sanctified by the augural ritual; each individual meeting
was preceded by the taking of the auspices by those responsible for the
meeting. The passing of laws, the holding of elections, discussion in the
senate — all took place within spaces and times defined by the application
of augural ritual; it followed that their validity was dependent on the
correct performances of the rituals and on the application of a network of
religious rules, whose maintenance was the augurs’ concern. One very
important issue was the right to take the auspices, which was held by the
senior magistrates, who passed it on, year by year, to their successors; if
for any reason there was a gap in the succession, the auspices returned to
the patres, the patrician members of the senate.*? It is evident that this
whole process was central to the relations between the city and the gods,
and to the legitimacy of all public transactions. This is, of course, why the
augurs were so important politically: their right to examine whether a
vitium (religious fault) had occurred in any proceeding of the assemblies
gave them a critical role in constitutional controversies, at least in the late
republican period.

The pontifices had a wider range of functions and responsibilities than

2 Weinstock 1934(Gstt], 480ff, Linderski 1986(G437], 2256ff.

% Caralano 1978(G378}, 440-53. 3) Varro, Ling. v.43.
32 Magdelain 1964[Hso], 427ff; cf. above, p. 181.

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586 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

the augurs, less easily defined in simple terms.33 The best summary might
be to say that their duties covered everything not specifically within the
activities of the augurs, the fetiales and the duo-/decemviri. Like these other
colleges, they were treated as experts on problems of sacred law and
procedure within their province — such matters as the games, sacrifices
and vows, the sacra connected with Vesta and the Vestals, tombs and
burial law, the inheritance of sacred obligations. Their powers of adjudi-
cation do not seem at first sight to lie in areas as politically significant as
those dealt with by the augurs. The pontifices were, however, and
continued to be even in the last days of the Republic, as distinguished as
the augurs in membership.* As already discussed, they were not like the
other colleges in their collegiate structure; they also differed from the
others in having functions that took them more distinctly outside what
we should define as religious. At its grandest, the role envisaged for them
by our sources is as the repository of all law, human or divine; Livy
suggests that, down to 304 B.c., the formulae without knowledge of
which no legal action could begin, were secrets known only to the
pontifices.5 Their role in the law outside religion is a most difficult
problem; but it is possible that the pontifices were the earliest source of
legal advice for the citizen, essentially on matters of religious procedure,
such as the rules of burial; but, since religious and non-religious law
overlapped, the range of advice they offered might have widened in
time. More certainly, the pontifices were responsible for the calendar; for
the supervision of adoptions and some other matters of family law; and
for the keeping of an annual record of events.

Their control of the calendar goes beyond interest merely in the annual
festivals, although that would have been part of their task. They were
responsible too for intercalation, for inserting the extra months needed
to keep the calendar in its correct relation to the solar year; the rex
sacrorum continued to announce the dates of each month, presumably asa
survival from the time when months were really begun by the new moon;
the college also fixed dates for some of the important festivals which had
no set date. The calendar included a great deal of information in the form
of marking of the days; these fixed the character of the day — whether the
courts could sit, whether the senate or the comitia could meet.3’ The
organization of public time was, then, pontifical business. Adoptions,
wills and inheritances all involved some elements of strictly religious

33 For the pontifices in general: Wissowa 1912[Gs19], so1ff; Rohde 1936[{G480]; De Sanctis
1907-64[A3 7], Iv.2.353ff; Bleicken 195 7[G353], 345 ff; Latte 1960[G435], 195 ff; Scheid 1985[G485],
36ff. * See the lists in Szemler 1972[G497], 101ff. 35 Livy 1x.46.5; ef. p. 396f.

3% Livy 1.20.6-7 leaves no doubt that the pontifex was expected to be available to advise the
individual citizen; see also Pomponius in Dig. 1.2.2.6, a text which suggests that one in particular was
nominated each year for this purpose, at least in the fourth century B.c.

37 Degrassi 1963[G388], 314ff; Michels 1967[(G446], Part 1; Scullard 1981[G494], 41ff.

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PRIESTS AND RELIGIOUS AUTHORITY 587

interest, since they all affected the issue of who would maintain into the
next generation the family’s religious obligations (sacra familiaria).*
Inevitably, the college’s duties in this area would have drawn them into
wider issues of the continuity of family traditions and the control of
property, issues fertile of conflicts between families or between clans
(gentes). The most unexpected of their duties was, perhaps, the recording
of events. What we know for certain, from a remark of Cato the Elder,°
is that they were responsible in the second century B.c. for publishing the
great events of the dav on a whitened board, displayed in public; these
public reports, according to other sources, formed the basis of a perma-
nent annual record, known to Cicero, and, at least allegedly, going back
to the earliest times.“ It seems very unlikely that this recording function
of the pontifices would have been added to their duties, had it not always
been part of them. If that is right, we are faced with a range of what we
should call ‘secular’ functions, as well as the ‘religious’ ones. That might
seem to imply that they were not an exclusively religious body in early
Rome: it would be better to say that we should not be thinking in terms of
our own boundary, or indeed of any boundary, between religious and
secular areas of life. It is not impossible on this assumption to find
coherence in the college’s different responsibilities. One hypothesis
might be that there was a connexion between their interest in family
continuity and their practice of record-keeping; if so, they should be seen
as priestly genealogists, concerned with ensuring that status and rights
were preserved within those families and gentes whose past achievements
had earned them their place in Roman society. Their concern would be
with the transmission of past rites into the future, the organization of the
year’s time into its destined functions, the preservation of past action asa
control over present status.

Two other colleges have duties which bring them close to the central
workings of the city. The fetials (fetéa/es) controlled and performed the
rituals through which alone a war could be started acceptably; it was of
the first importance that the war should both be and be seen to be a ‘just
war’ (bellum iustum).“’ The full extant accounts of their activities date
from a period when much of their ritual must have been modified or
discontinued; but, if Livy should be believed at all, they were in early
times responsible both for ritual action and for what we should call
diplomatic action — conveying messages and demanding reparations.*

38 Cicero discusses at length in De Legibus 11.47ff the conflict that could arise for a pontifical
lawyer between the rules over the inheritance of sacra in the pontifical law and the ordinary rules of
the civil law. 39 Origines fr. 77 (Peter) = Gell. NA 1.28.6.

41 On the fetiales, Wissowa 1912[G5 19], s50ff; Latte 1960[G435], 121ff; Samter 1909{G483],
2259ff; Bayet 1971[G351], 9ff. For the ‘just war’ cf. above, p. 384.

42 Livy’s account of the earliest fetial law (1.32) is under strong suspicion of being based on later
antiquarian reconstructions; see Ogilvie ad loc. (Ogilvie 1965[Biz9], 127ff).

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588 1z. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

Later on, they could still be called upon by the senate to give their view
on the correct procedures for the declaration. The dxoviri, later
decemviri, sacris faciundis (two, later ten, men for ritual action) were the
guardians of the Sibylline Books. The Books will be discussed in a later
section, but there can be no doubt that the college kept and consulted on
the senate’s instructions prophetic verses of supposedly great antiquity.
When prodigies were reported and the senate felt the need of strong
remedial action, the Books would produce recommendations for action.
When they suggested the introduction of foreign cults, as they repeat-
edly did, the priests may have had some continuing responsibility for
them; the new cults were normally Greek and celebrated in what the
Romans called ‘the Greek rite’ (Graeco ritu); but it would be going well
beyond the evidence to say that the decemviri had the same duties in
relation to the Greek cults as the pontifices did in relation to Roman
ones. It seems that both fefia/es and decemviri kept within closely defined
areas of action.

In fact, all the colleges had limited authority, exercised only within a
complicated set of procedures that involved non-priests as well as priests.
Thus the priests cannot be treated as an independent or self-sufficient
religious structure. For one thing, they do not seem ever to have been a
separate caste, or a group of specialized, or professional, priests. Later
augurs and pontifices, for whom we have lists preserved, were simply the
most noble of the senators — that is, they were the same men who
dominated politics and the law, fought the battles, celebrated triumphs
and made great fortunes on overseas commands.* Although they were
in principle the guardians of religious, even of secret, lore, they were not
specially trained or selected on any criterion other than family or political
status. The holders of the less distinguished priesthoods are less well
known to us, but there is little, if any, sign that they were chosen as
religious specialists. That is not to say that priests, or some of them, did
not become experts in the traditions and records of their colleges, but
they certainly had other things on their minds as well. Cicero regarded
this situation as one of the characteristic and important features of the
tradition of Rome and as asource of special strength.“ There is no doubt
that by the end of the period under consideration, the priest-politician
was an established figure; whether this situation goes right back to the
beginnings of the Republic must be more open to debate, though it is

4 E.g. Livy xxx1.8.3.

“ On the decemviri s.f., Wissowa 1912[Gs519], 524ff; Gagé 1933{G406]; Radke 1963(G47z],
1114ff; on the Sibylline Books, below (p. 617).

45 The most famous examples are such men as Caesar, Pompey and Antony, but see the lists in
Szemler 1972[G497] for the evidence as to how widespread the practice was; it should be
remembered that we do not have lists for the lesser priesthoods, where it is probable that less
important figures would have been found. # Cic. Dom. 1.

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PRIESTS AND RELIGIOUS AUTHORITY 589

usually assumed that it does. We know the names of some early priests,
but can never positively identify them with known consuls, as we can
later on.47 In some respects, the early republican situation must have been
quite different from the later one: the number of priests in the major
colleges was far smaller — two or three, as compared to eight or nine after
300 B.C.; again, they were almost certainly all patricians — the first non-
patricians seem to enter the decemviri in 367 B.c., the pontifices and augurs
only in 300 B.c. Even in the later period, some priests are prevented by
traditional rules from entering other areas of public life. The rex sacrorum
was prevented from holding any office,*8 but he is a special case on any
view. The major flamines were in some cases prevented by their duties or
the regulations of their priesthoods from holding or exercising all the
duties of magistrates.49 After repeated conflicts, these restrictions were
step by step relaxed in the late Republic, until the famines came to play the
normal role of an aristocrat in public life. It would be possible to argue
that the other priests as well were originally excluded from political life
and from warfare; but that they had followed the same route as the
flamines, though at a much earlier date. In this case, the early colleges
would have represented more nearly specialized religious institutions; at
a later stage these prestigious offices for life might have become tempting
prizes for the aristocratic leaders of the day. It would be difficult to
disprove this theory; but on balance the established view seems after all
likelier to be right: it seems to be characteristic of the augurs and the
pontifices that they were full colleagues — one could always act instead of
another, so that limitations on their movements would never have been
so necessary as on those of the famines. The flamen Dialis, in particular,
had a ritual programme that only he could perform; so rules to keep him
in the city had a particular point.5°

To define more closely how far the priests had authority, their
activities need to be put into their proper context. In general, the
initiative in relation to religious action lay with the magistrates: it was
they who consulted the gods by taking the auspices before meetings or
battles; it was they who performed the dedication of temples to the gods;
it was they who conducted censuses and the associated lustral cere-
monies; it was they who made public vows and held the games or
sacrifices needed to fulfil the vows. The priest’s role was to dictate or
prescribe the prayers and formulae, to offer advice on the procedures or

47 Szemler 1972(G497}, chap. 2.

48 This emerges quite clearly from Livy x1.42.8ff, reporting a conflict in the second century B.c
between a potential rex secrorum and the pontifex maximus of the time, who wanted him to abdicate a
junior magistracy that he was then holding. The outcome was that he kept his magistracy and did not
become rex. 4 See Livy, Epit. xix; Livy xxxvur.51.1ff; Cic. Phil, x1.18.

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59° 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

simply to attend. Again, when it came to religious decision-making, it
was not with the priests, but with the senate that the effective power of
decision lay. To take an example, when a bill had been voted through in
the assemblies, but by a questionable procedure, the priests might be
asked by the senate to comment on whether a fault (vétinm) had taken
place; but, subject to the ruling the priests offered, it would be the senate
not the priests who would declare the law invalid on religious grounds.*!
The procedure for dealing with the annual prodigy-reports suggests
much the same relationship; the senate heard the reports and decided to
which groups of priests, if any, they should be referred; the priests
replied to the senate; the senate ordered the appropriate actions to take
place; it was often the magistrates who carried out the ceremonials on the
city’s behalf.52

To the modern observer, this procedure makes the priests look rather
like a constitutional sub-committee of the senate, but this may be
misleading: if the priests could not act, they were accepted as supreme
authorities on the sacred law in their area. Once the senate had consulted
them, it seems inconceivable that their advice should not be followed.
On other occasions, with smaller issues at stake — such matters as the
precise drafting of vows, the right procedure for the consecration of
buildings, the control of the calendar — the priests must have had freedom
of decision. So, religious authority in the general sense can only be
located in the interaction, according to rules and conventions, of magis-
trates, senate and priests, each college in its own sphere. It follows that
the relations of religion and politics were similarly interlocked: every
political action took place in a religious context and had a religious
aspect, essential to its validity. Thus, even if they were not sole arbiters,
the priests must from a very early period have occupied a critical position
in Roman political life and often been at the centre of controversy.
Conflicts over points of ritual and religious procedures should be seen as
an inherent part of the normal working of city life, in no way as a
symptom of failure or deterioration in the late Republic. Priests must
always have been liable to the charge that they were prejudiced in favour
of friends and against enemies; the idea that they had once been quite
innocent of politics is no more than a romanticizing fiction.

III. THE PLACE OF GODS AND GODDESSES IN THE LIFE OF ROME

The first characteristic of Roman gods and goddesses to strike the
observer must be the wide range of different types, all accepted and

51 Ase. Corn. p. 68c.
52 See, e.g., Livy xxx1.12.8-9, where the final action is clearly the magistrate’s responsibility.

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GODS AND GODDESSES 591

worshipped as di deaeque. At one extreme, there were the great gods —
Mars, Iuppiter, Iuno — each having a variety of major functions, tradi-
tions and myths (these, admittedly, sometimes borrowed from the
Greeks); at the other extreme, deities who performed one narrowly
defined function or who appeared only in one narrowly defined ritual
context. Even parts of a natural process could have their presiding deity;
and the possibility of still further unnamed or unknown gods and
goddesses sometimes had to be admitted and allowed for in ritual
formulae.>3 The time-honoured way of dealing with this variety of the
Romans’ conception of their gods is to claim that the gods have become
‘frozen’ at different points in their evolution. So far as the republican
period is concerned, the fact is that all the types co-existed and that there
is no sign of uneasiness, any more than there seems to be any uneasiness
about adding to the list whether by means of introduction from outside
Rome or of recognition of new divine powers. It may be that the priests
made some attempts to list and classify the gods, but this does not seem to
have produced any movement towards the convergence of the types or
to have imposed family relationships or kinship.

There is very little sign of intermediate categories between gods and
men. It may be that the dead should be seen as such a category, since they
did receive cult, though not as individuals but as a generalized group,
under the title of the di Manes or divi parentes.** However, with the
exception of the founders — Aeneas, Romulus and perhaps Latinus — men
did not become gods, either when alive or after death; even the three
exceptions are equivocal because it is not clear how far they themselves
become gods, how far they are identified with pre-existing gods (Indiges,
Quirinus, Iuppiter Latiaris).55 Dramatic interaction between humans
and gods was not impossible: Mars had sexual intercourse with the virgin
Rhea Silvia and so begot Romulus; Numa conversed banteringly with
Iuppiter and slept with the nymph Egeria; Faunus or Inuus seized and
raped women in the wild woods; Castor and Pollux appeared in moments
of peril. But these mythical or exceptional transactions apart, communi-
cation between men and gods took place, so far as literary sources inform
us, through the medium of ritualized exchange and the interpretation of
signs rather than through intervention or inspiration; it has been men-
tioned already that our archaeological evidence suggests that this was not
the full picture.5¢

Our most direct prospect of understanding the character of communi-
cation between gods and human beings comes from the surviving texts,
prayers, vows and formulae. There is very little that we can be certain

53 For the formula, see Appel 1909[G344], 80f.

34 Wissowa 1912[Gs19], 232ff; De Sanctis 1907-64[A37), 1V.2.243ff, Latte 1960[G435}, 98;
Weinstock 1971[G517], z91ff. 55 Liou-Gille 1980[G438]. 5 See above (p. 580).

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592 I2. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

comes from an early date, but there is a sufficient body of material from
the third and second centuries B.c. to give us some grasp of the
underlying conceptions. A great deal of emphasis was placed on the
spoken word and on the need for the most meticulous repetition of
the correct formulae; supposedly, the slightest error in performance had
to lead to the repetition of the whole ritual.57 High value was also placed
on the keeping of records and on the preservation of ancient writings and
traditions. If the word was important, it was presumably preserved with
care. But there are difficulties too: first, the preserved texts were origin-
ally part of a ritual complex, which we can only sketchily recreate and
which would have modified the meaning of the words in use; secondly,
the very value placed on the precise wording as part of the ritual
performance is liable to cause the formulae to survive in use after the
initial meaning has been forgotten or ceased to be operative. Some prayer
formulae are reported to have been quite incomprehensible to those who
used them in the later period. This risk is less in the case of the formulae
of vows, because they do refer to a specific moment and, even though
they necessarily incorporate traditional elements, must be renewed and
rethought on each new occasion.

The public vows which survive are very specific and precise undertak-
ings, made to named gods, laying down the conditions under which the
vow will be fulfilled and the nature of the gift or ritual action with which
the help of the god will be rewarded; these take the form of offerings,
sacrifices, special games, the building of temples and so on. They can be
made in special circumstances or even in a crisis; there are also regular
annual vows for the safety of the res publica, taken by the year’s consul.
The most elaborate example we have dates from the early years of the
Hannibalic War, though of course its wording reflects far earlier tradi-
tions.58 It refers to the celebration of the sacred spring (ver sacrum), that is
the offering to the gods, in this case Iuppiter, of the whole product of a
single spring — pigs, sheep, goats and cattle. This extraordinary offer
(which we otherwise know only from mythical accounts of early Italy)
was made subject to a series of reservations: the people were to lay down
the dates which would constitute the ‘spring’; if there were to be any
error or irregularity in the sacrificial procedure the sacrifice would
nevertheless count as properly conducted; if any intended victim were to
be stolen, the blame should fall on others than the Roman people or the
owner. The circumstances were admittedly unique, because the ver
sacrum would have involved sacrifices performed all over Roman terri-
tory, by large numbers of people outside the supervision of the priests.

57 North 1976[G453], ff; cf. Kéves-Zulauf 1972[G433], 21ff.

58 The text is from Livy xxt1.10; discussion: Heurgon 195 7[J6o], 36ff; Eisenhut 195 5{J43], 911
North 1976{G455], 5-6. Cf. also p. 284.

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GODS AND GODDESSES 593

Even so, the implications are important. The formula specifies for the
benefit of the gods what will, and what will not, count as appropriate
fulfilment of the vow. It is sometimes said that Roman vows were
contractual in the sense that the gods were seen as laid under an
obligation by the fact of the taking of the vow. In general, this is simply
not true. The Romans offered honour and worship in return for benevo-
lence; the gods were free to be benevolent or not; if they were not, no
obligation arose. There was, of course, a reciprocity, as in any other
religious transaction. The human side consisted of benefits very much in
this world. The gods’ side was defined with care in the original formula.
They were bound only in one sense, that is that they would accept
precisely what they were offered — no more, no less. Just as, Polybius5?
tells us, a Roman expected to be paid his debt on the agreed day, not a day
later but not a day earlier either. Roman gods may not have been
anthropomorphic in form, but their assumed mentality and behaviour
mirror those of their worshippers on a larger scale. There is no sense in
which the gods should be seen as all-powerful or irresponsible, nor men
as their helpless slaves. They could not be controlled but they could be
negotiated with; they were indeed bound to the human community by a
network of obligations, traditions, rules, within which the skill of the
priests, magistrates and senate could keep them on the side of the city.

Vow forms of one kind or another were used in quite a wide range of
transactions. In the case of war the gods of the enemy could be seduced
by evocatio, a vow offering them continuance of cult or possibly even a
temple in Rome, if they withdrew their protection. In the course of the
war the general might vow a temple toa god or goddess, not necessarily a
warlike one. In face of a disaster in battle, the general (though only if he
was cum imperio) could dedicate himself and the legions of the enemy to
the gods of the dead and to the Earth. In effect, he made himself sacer,
sacred, almost like the animal victim of a normal sacrifice; he then had to
mount a horse and rush precipitately to his death on the enemies’ spears.
This is first reported as having happened in 340 B.c., the consul being
Decius Mus (p. 362); his son and grandson followed his example
(pp. 379; 472). This is different from the normal order of events, in that
the consul’s death was the fulfilment of the vow, and therefore took place
before the gods had had the opportunity to do their part. If the consul
failed to die, according to Livy, an over life-size image was buried in the
earth, evidently in fulfilment of the unsatisfied vow.®!

59 xxx1.27, especially 27.10~-11.

© For the formula see Macrobius 111.9.7ff; discussion: Wissowa 1912[G319], 383f; Dumézil
1970/71(G 399], 42z4ff; Le Gall 1976{G4o9], 5 1 off.

61 Livy vitt.off (the fullest account, 340 B.C.); x.28.12ff (295 B.c.); Cie. Fin. 11.61; Tuse. 1.89; Dio

Cass. ap. Zonar. vitt.5 (279 B.C.); full discussion and analysis of the major text by H.S. Versnel
1980(G506], 135ff.

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594 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

Vows and prayers were recorded in the annals and manageable to the
historian, precisely because they were verbal and hence transmittable. It
would be a mistake to think that there were not other ways in which
important communication took place between men and gods. The story
of Decius in 340, which has just been mentioned, contains two direct
messages from gods to men. The first is almost unique in Livy, in that it
consists of a dream, warning Decius of what is to come; the second is a far
more usual element in the tradition:

The Roman generals sacrificed before they went into battle. The saruspex
revealed to Decius that the liver of his victim had a lobe cut from its ‘familiar’
part, in other respects it was acceptable to the gods. (His colleague) Manlius had
carried his sacrifice through successfully (egregie litasse). ‘It is enough’, said
Decius, ‘if he has succeeded.’

(Livy vrit.9.1)

The word used here for carrying the sacrifice through is ‘litare’ (as a
noun: ‘litatio’); it can be used simply to mean sacrifice, but it involves the
successful completion and acceptance of the victim by the gods. In this
case, Decius already knew that he was destined to die for the legions and
hence that it did not matter that it should be only his colleague who
achieved /itatio; normally the failure to do so would have been a disas-
trously bad sign.®

Animal sacrifice was the central ritual of many religious occasions; we
know enough about it from both literary and archaeological evidence to
understand the main stages.® In structure, as opposed to detail, the ritual
was closely related to Greek sacrifice. The victim was tested and checked
to make sure it was suitable; precise rules controlled the choice of sex,
age, colour and type of victim, in relation to the deity and the occasion.
After a procession to thealtar and preparatory rites, a prayer was said in
which the recipient was named; then the victim was made sacred by the
placing of wine and meal on its head and it was at this moment (so it was
believed) that the signs (if any) appeared in the entrails that would imply
the gods’ rejection of the offering.6* The victim had to be killed by a
single blow; its ex/a (entrails) were examined by the haruspices; assuming
that they were acceptable, the animal was then butchered, cooked and
eventually eaten by the worshippers. If the exfa showed unacceptable
signs, further victims could be sacrificed until one was accepted and

62 Livy vit.to.12.

63 For the important, though later, evidence of the sculptured reliefs, cf. Scott Ryberg
195 §[G482]; the literary evidence for sacrifice is plentiful but extremely scattered; the only coherent
accounts are the attack on sacrifice by the Christian Arnobius, Adv. Gent. vit; and the comparison
between Greek and Roman practices in Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. vit.72.15—18. Modern discussion:
Warde Fowler 1911[Gsog], 176f; Wissowa 1912[G519], go9ff; Dumézil 1970/71[G399], 557
Scholz 1980[G493], 289ff. Cic. Div. 11.37.

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GODS AND GODDESSES 595

litatio achieved. The whole process was evidently bound by rules and by
traditional lore; any error or misfortune — the victim escaping or strug-
gling, the exta slipping when offered up at the altar — would have been
very inauspicious.® The butchering was a specialized business, because
we know about a technical sacred vocabulary for the different cuts
offered to the god.© This separation of the meat between worshippers
and gods implies that the sacrificial ritual involved a symbolic represen-
tation of their relationship. To draw on conceptions developed in the
study of the parallel Greek situation,® it can be said that we have a
ritualized redefinition in terms of diet of the boundary between gods and
humans. But it is important also that the ritual offered opportunities for
the exchange of messages — prayers from men to gods, acceptance or
warnings from gods to men.

Warnings also came uninvited, from outside the ritual process; these
were prodigies and the lists of them which Livy preserves in his third,
fourth and fifth decades provide us with one of our best indications of the
style of Roman religious activity. Prodigies included natural disasters,
such as floods, famines, even plagues, and a whole range of unusual
meteorological events (the raining of ‘stones’, ‘blood’, ‘milk’ etc.);
lightning striking significant or holy objects; monsters and deformed
births; wild animals penetrating the city’s space. There is relatively little
which would be called miraculous or supernatural in our terms; rather,
these events depart from the Romans’ conception of what was normal,
which was, of course, not necessarily the same as ours. It would be going
outside the evidence to say that the Romans regarded the prodigy as
resulting from a direct intervention by the gods, but it did imply that
something relating to the gods had gone seriously wrong. The procedure
was that prodigies were reported to the senate in Rome; they were taken
to indicate some kind of rupture in the proper relationship of Rome to its
gods and hence called for religious action by the authorities. Here, then,
more than anywhere else, we find a divine irruption into human lives,
demanding a response. The response was subject to routine: the senate
accepted the prodigy, or could rule that it had no public significance;®
once accepted, it could be referred to the decemviri or the haruspices for
advice and the appropriate actions (remedia) to be taken by priests,
magistrates or even people, determined. The effect of this action was

65 Serv. Aen. 11.104; Festus (ep.) 351 L; Suet. Iu/. 59 (where Caesar ignores the omen).

6 We have to rely for information here on the hilarious and hostile account of Amobius, Adv.
Gent. vu1.24.

67 See e.g. M. Detienne and J.-P. Vernant (edd.) La cussine du sacrifice en pays grec (Paris 1979).

& Bloch 1963(G355].

® The senate ruled in 169 B.c. that certain reported prodigies were not acceptable for public
purposes, according to Livy xti11.13; this is the only time that such a decision is mentioned in our
sources, but presumably represents the regular procedure. Discussion in MacBain 1982(G44o}, 25 ff.

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596 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

neutralization of the warning. The signs were not taken to indicate fated
or irrelevant processes, nor were they taken as the opportunity for formal
divination, since all prodigies were bad signs. It was only in the last two
centuries B.c. that the prodigy began to be more elaborately interpreted
by the saruspices, even sometimes taken to be a potentially good sign.
Earlier than this, Livy indicates that some prodigies were regarded as
particularly horrifying and that large numbers were reported at times of
grave danger to the city. The sources of senatorial and priestly skill and
wisdom would be used to avert the dangers, though there was no
guarantee of success. So, from a functional point of view, the system
provided a means of coping with crises, by focusing fears into an area
within which the ruling class could claim special inherited expertise. The
remedia offered an opportunity for holding elaborate ceremonies, some-
times including new festivals or new entertainments, promoting morale
and social solidarity.

For all this the overwhelming bulk of the evidence comes from the
later republican period, so the problem once again is whether it is a
justified assumption that these practices date back to the early period.
The first decade of Livy’s history mentions occasional prodigies but has
no regular lists; Julius Obsequens, who made a collection of Livy’s
prodigy-lists, began with the year 249 B.c.;” that may suggest that Livy
provided no regular lists until the nineteenth book of his Héstory. But
even if something did change in 249 B.c., it might have been the way
records were kept, not the way prodigies were regarded or dealt with.
The lists must have changed greatly in any case, because the later ones
draw on the whole of Roman and even non-Roman Italy, whereas the
earlier would have come from the immediate area of Rome. The early
evidence suggests that prodigies played the same role as later, though
obviously the years of the Republic saw a gradual expansion and routin-
ization of the procedure.

It is unavoidable that an account such as this one should rely mostly on
those transactions which leave a mark in the historical record; but the
gods, or reminders of them, were always present in Roman public and
private space. It may not be easy to estimate the impact on a society
whose physical environment and experience are known to us at such a
remove, but we should at least remember how much we do not know.
The early republican city must have been dominated by the great temple
of the Capitoline triad, Iuppiter, luno and Minerva, which seems to have
been built on a far greater scale than any of the subsequent republican
sacred buildings.”! Many of what are later great temples will have been

70 The date comes from the title in the editio princeps, text (ed. O. Rossbach) in T. Liv Periochae
omnium librorum, fragmenta Oxyrbynchi reperta, lulii Obsequentis prodigiorum liber (Teubner: Leipzig
1910); translation in Loeb Classical Library, Livy vol. xtv, 237 (Cambridge Massachusetts 1959).

1" Castagnoli 1979[G374], 145ff; above, p. 25if.

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GODS AND GODDESSES 597

simply altars or holy places: others were already temples, but on a small
scale compared to Iuppiter’s. All the same, the city’s public centre, the
Forum first laid down under the later kings (p. 75) and developed in the
early Republic, will have been bounded at least on the south by sacred
buildings — the temples of Saturn, the Castores, Vesta and also by the
Regia — the religious centre of the rex sacrorum and the pontifices.72

We can assume that, at any rate by this time, where there were temples
there were also cult images; we have no way of telling how far these
images would have been disseminated, whether there would have been
terracotta reproductions, whether private houses would then, as they did
later, have contained their own images of the household gods. By the end
of the Republic the images of the gods were omnipresent and had their
own ceremonial: they appeared before the temples on special couches
(pulvinaria) so that offerings could be given them; they were carried in
procession on special litters and their symbols in carriages (tensae); at the
ludi they had their own places from which they watched the racing in the
circus.73 This must all have been happening by the third century B.c.; it is
harder to be sure how much of it goes back to the fifth century, or earlier.
We have from Dionysius of Halicarnassus’ what purports to be a
description of a fifth-century procession from the Capitoline temple to
the Circus Maximus before the games. Dionysius says he found this
account in Fabius Pictor, but, even if Fabius himself thought it was a
fifth-century document or record which he was using, there are good
reasons to doubt the reliability of the date; however, the practice must at
the latest have been well established by Fabius’ own time in the third
century.75 In Dionysius’ words:

The images of the gods came last of all in the procession, borne on the shoulders
of men, each having the same appearance as those which the Greeks make, as
well as the same clothes, the same symbols and the same gifts, which they had
traditionally invented or bestowed on the human race. . .

(Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. vit.72.12)

At the heart of the oldest sets of /udi, there was also a ceremony called the
epulum lovis, the feast of luppiter, which was presumably the offering or
sharing of a meal in the presence of the image of Iuppiter from the
Capitol. The history of the /ud is itself a matter of great controversy, but
if any of the ceremonial goes back to the early Republic, it seems likely
that the procession of the images is amongst the original elements.76

72 Coarelli 1983[Eg4]-

73 For the ritual of the /udi: Wissowa 1912({Gs19], 449ff; Piganio!l 1923[G469); Piccaluga
1965({G467]; Versnel 1970[G742], 258ff; Weinstock 1971[G317], 282ff.

74 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. vit.7off. 78 See Piganiol 1923{G469].

76 For the epulum lovis: Degrassi 1963[G388], 509; 530; Warde Fowler 1899[G508], 216ff;
Wissowa 1912[G519], 127; Scullard 1981[G494], 186-7. .

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598 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

Much about the Roman gods is and must remain obscure; but it is
possible to discern at least in rough outline their place in the life of Rome.
They are very much involved in the political and military activity of the
city and their areas of power can be defined very much in terms of the
city’s social structure, as will be clearer from the next section. They are
seen as forces outside the human community with whom the man of
learning and skill, knowing the rules, traditions and rituals, can negotiate
and communicate in terms of a complex system, so that the historical
process is determined by the actions of men and gods together. The
activities of the city’s leaders on the city’s behalf cannot be conceived
except in the context of such a procedure of negotiation and joint action.
There seems no reason to think that Roman gods act typically either by
way of dramatic intervention in human life or as immanent forces
realizing themselves through human actors. They are essentially other
than men and apart from men, and yet constantly involved in human
activities. Their benevolence is essential to success, but it can never be
assumed to be available without continuous human effort to maintain the
right relationship.

IV. RELIGION AND ACTION

In many ways the categories and vocabulary to be met with in the religion
of Rome seem comfortably similar to those familiar from religions
current today — prayer, sacrifice, vows, sacred books, even divination;
but translating from one religious system into the terms of another is
never a simple matter and, in this case, the apparent familiarity is
deceptive. It is in considering the relationship between religion and the
social organization of republican Rome that the differences become most
acutely obvious. The sharpest difference of all is that the Rome of this
period had no religious groups whose purpose it was to practise a
particular form of devotion or to worship a particular god or set of gods;
any individual citizen might belong to a group that had religious duties
to perform; but he would belong to it by reason of his birth, as was the
case with family or gentile cults, or by reason of where he lived or of his
occupation, not by any act of choice. We certainly know from quite an
early republican date of collegia (‘associations’) oriented towards a par-
ticular god and having a membership from a particular group of people;
but we do not know of groups consisting of men who had decided to join
together on grounds of religious conviction. Indeed, the very notion of
religious conviction is problematic in this situation.

The implications of this difference determine the character of religious
life at both the social and the individual level. At the social level, it means
that there were no autonomous religious groups, with their own special
value-systems, ideas or beliefs to defend or advocate; hence there was

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RELIGION AND ACTION 599

little chance that religion would ever represent a force for advocating
change or reform. At the individual level, it means that men and women
were not faced with the need to make (or opportunity of making) acts of
religious commitment; that in turn implies that they had no religious
biographies, no moments of profound new experience or revelation such
as to determine the course of their future lives. It also means that
religious ‘experiences’, ‘feelings’ or ‘beliefs’ must all have had quite
different significances and resonances in this society; for us, for instance,
the individual’s beliefs play a central part in determining his religious life
and the loss of belief necessarily implies a crisis, bringing a change of
allegiance or the total abandonment of religious life. No doubt, Romans
from an early period, or in any period, might have been sceptical about
the gods and their supposed activities; but, given that such doubts could
not lead anywhere in terms of religious action, they would have consti-
tuted no more thana personal eccentricity. It is only ina religious context
where beliefs determine choices, that believing as such becomes a central
element in the system. In republican Rome, where no such choices
existed, the individual’s beliefs must have been of marginal importance
in his or her life.

In looking at the way in which religion and society interacted, what we
find is, therefore, not special institutions and activities, set aside from
everyday life and designed to pursue religious objectives or the religious
life, but rather a situation in which all institutions and all activities have
some religious aspect or associated rituals. As we have already seen, the
whole of the political and constitutional system was conducted within an
elaborate network of religious ceremonial and regulation which had the
effect of bringing the time, space and hence the validity of political action
into the divine sphere. The world of decision-taking, of elections and of
legislation was the area in which the gods might be expected to be most
interested; but, in fact, all important areas of life, public or private, had
some religious correlates. It is not difficult to show, by an antiquarian
collection of evidence, that there were rituals connected with warfare,
with agriculture, or with family life. It is much more difficult to assess
how all this information should influence our understanding of Roman
life.

Warfare was already sanctified by the rituals of the old calendar of
festivals. In March — originally the first month of the year — there was a
coherent and interconnected set of festivals, mostly directed to Mars and
unmistakably marking the preparations for a new season of war-making.
There was a corresponding set in October, somewhat less elaborate, but
also evidently marking the end of the season, the putting aside of arms for
the winter.””7 On both occasions a central role was played by the Salii,

7 Degrassi 1963[G388], 417; sziff; Warde Fowler 1911{Gso9], 96ff; Wissowa 1912[Gs19],
144ff; Scullard 1981(Gqg94], 85ff; 193ff.

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600 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

priests of Mars and Quirinus, created to guard the special symbols fallen
from the sky — the ancilia; the priests were all patricians, who danced
through the streets, dressed in the armour of archaic foot-soldiers.78
There is much argument about what these ceremonies originally meant,
but there can be little doubt that at least by republican times they must
have represented a celebration of the annual rhythm of war-making. In
the Republic the actual conduct of warfare was in the hands of the consuls
and they commanded under their own auspices; but at all periods, action
was preceded by consultation of the gods and by sacrifices, whose
rejection by the gods would imply a warning not to join battle. Mean-
while, the participants in the warfare would seek advantage through the
establishment of a better relationship with the gods. At the opening of
the campaign the ritual of the fetial priests was intended to ensure that the
war was acceptable to the gods as a just war; sacrifices were held in order
to obtain confirmation of the divine attitude and vows were taken to
induce the gods to look favourably.”9 In the field, too, the commander
might take vows to be fulfilled if the battle turned out well; at any rate by
the end of the third century, this part of the process had become
sufficiently familiar to be parodied by Plautus:

The generals of both sides, ours and theirs,
Take vows to Iuppiter and exhort the troops...
(Plautus, Amphitruon 231-2)

It was also possible to seek to influence the enemies’ gods by the offer of
cult in return for their withdrawal of support. There is here, as always, an
underlying tension between faith in the gods and the facts of life: if the
gods are really benevolent and powerful, why should things ever go
wrong? Any system which is able to function at all must offer answers to
such questions; only the most obvious is that military disasters are
connected with mistakes, noticed too late, in the necessary rituals.

If religion and religious ritual penetrated the area of warfare, warfare
and its consequences could to some extent penetrate the religious sphere
of the city. The vows taken by generals could lead to spectacular war-
memorials in the form of temples in the city; and the spoils of war might
either find their way into the temples by way of dedication, or finance the
building of monuments commemorating the generals’ achievements.®
Less permanent, though perhaps even more spectacular and desirable,
was the triumph in which the victorious returning war-leader paraded
through the city’s streets at the head of his troops, presenting his spoils

78 Salii: Wissowa 1912[G5r9], 555ff; Latte 1960[Gq35], 114f; Ogilvie 1965[B1z9}, 98f.
79 See, for instance, Livy xxxv1.1-3 for the various religious proceedings in expectation of war in
191 B.C. 80 See Harris 1979[AG61], 20f; 261f.

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and his prisoners to the cheering pl/ebs Romana. He entered the city by a
special gateway, the Porta Triumphalis, splendidly dressed and riding in
a chariot drawn by four horses; his procession made its way to the heart
of the city by a special route leading eventually to the temple of Iuppiter
Capitolinus, where he laid wreaths of laurel in the statue’s lap. He himself
was dressed and his face painted red, exactly like the statue of Iuppiter.®!
The triumphator’s name was then added to the special triumphal fasti:
the supreme ambition of a Roman noble was achieved. In some sense, the
triumphing general had been deified for the day and hence (true or not)
we have the story of the slave who stood at his shoulder and whispered:
‘Look round and remember that you are a man.’®2 In any case, much of
the ceremonial involved the temporary reversal of the usual forms — the
general and his army were never otherwise allowed inside the city and the
troops were licensed for this one day to shout abuse and obscenities at
their general. Dressed as the god, no doubt in the symbolic terms of the
ritual he was the god. But at the grand sacrifice of white oxen, with which
the procession ended, it was the ¢riumphator who sacrificed, luppiter who
received the victims.

Warfare, like politics, belonged very much to the public area of life in
which the gods of Rome had their major interest and concern. When we
turn to the rituals of the agricultural year, the city was not responsible for
the activity as such, but did undertake to mediate on the farmer’s behalf.
The ancient calendar of festivals contains rituals connected with grain-
crops, with wine-production and with animal husbandry; it is interesting
that olive-growing, though it probably arrived from Greece in the
course of the sixth century B.c., did not find any place in the calendar.
Some of these festivals seem straightforward and unproblematic; thus,
for instance, the Robigalia of 25 April was a sacrifice to protect the
growing crops from blight.83 The timing of the two vine festivals of 23
Apriland 19 August is less easy to understand, since neither date seems to
correspond to the time of harvesting.®4 So far as the grain-crops are
concerned, there were festivals to mark the sowing of the seed at the end
of January — though sowing would have been taking place from autumn
onwards; a cluster of festivals in April to Tellus (this is the Fordicidia, the
sacrifice of a pregnant cow) and to Ceres, the goddess of corn, as well as
the Robigalia already mentioned; all these quite appropriately accom-

8 The triumph: Versnel 1970[G742]; Ehlers 1948[G372], 493; Weinstock 1971[G517], 6off;
Scullard 1981[G49q], 213 ff.

8 Pliny, HN xxvitt.39; Tert. Apol. 33.4.

83 Robigalia (April 25): Degrassi 1963[G388], 448; Latte 1960[G4q35], 67ff; Scullard 1981(G494],
108.

™ Vinalia (23 April, 19 August): Degrassi 1963[G388], 446; 498; Wissowa 1912[G319], 1154;
289ff; Schilling 1954[G486], 98f; Latte 1960[G435}, 75; 184; Scullard 1981[G494], 106ff.

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602 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

panied the period of the growing crops.®5 The festivals of high summer
celebrated the harvesting, storing and protecting of the crops against
various dangers.® The clearest occasion on which the care of animals was
the objective was at the Parilia (21 April), the festival of the pastores and,
incidentally, the birthday of Rome itself.87 There are, then, festivals
which mark at least some of the most important moments of the
agricultural year, relating to the different activities of the farm’s life.
Much discussion of this cycle of festivals is under-pinned by the
assumption that by the end of the period we are considering all these
festivals were well on their way to becoming antiquarian survivals
having no significance for contemporary, urban-dwelling Romans. It is
no doubt true that in Roman religious practice, as in many others, rituals
were maintained from year to year out of a general sense of scrupulous-
ness, even where no particular significance was being attached to them; it
is also true that by the last years of the Republic, antiquarians were no
longer able to say what some of the festivals meant. By that time, perhaps,
Rome the city had grown so much and its largely immigrant population
become so urbanized and so attached to imported religions, that there
would have been little meaning left in the old agricultural rituals,
though, even for the later date, this would be very hard to prove. For the
third century B.c., however, Rome was still very much open to the
countryside; many of its residents would have owned farms or at least
worked on them intermittently, others would have had relations who
did; and they would all have been totally dependent on the produce of the
local agricultural economy for their food-supply.88 It is sometimes
suggested that the simple fact that the festivals had fixed dates in a
calendar tied to the solar year (or rather a four-year cycle related to the
solar year) made those festivals, or at least some of them, meaningless: so
a festival intended to coincide, say, with the harvest would sometimes be
late, sometimes early, only occasionally coincide; worse, the insertion of
the intercalary month was at times neglected by the pontifices so that the
calendar would be out of phase with the seasons and the celebrations
even more grotesquely mistimed. All this rests on multiple misunder-
standings. The early Roman calendar was in fact fairly advanced in its
workings and we have no evidence that anything went seriously wrong
with it before the mysterious aberrations at the end of the third century

85 Sementivae (late January, but not fixed): Wissowa 1912(G5 19], 193; Bayet 1971[G351], 1778
Scullard 1981{G494], 68. Fordicidia (April 15): Degrassi 1963[G 388], 44off; Latte 1960[G435], 68;
Dumezil 1970/71(G 399], 371; Scullard 1981(G4g94], 102. Cerealia (April 19): Degrassi 1963{G 388],
442; Le Bonniec 1958[G 360], 108ff; Latte 1960[G435], 68; Dumézil 1970/71[G 399], 3 74ff; Scullard
1981[Gqg4], 102. 8% Dumézil 1975[G4oo].

87 Parilia (April 21): Degrassi 1963[G388], 443; Wissowa 1912[Gs 19], 199; Latte 1960[G43 5], 87;
Dumiézil 1975[G4o00], 188A; Scullard 1981[G494], 103ff.

88 Cf. above, p. 4o8f (with a different view).

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RELIGION AND ACTION 603

B.c., which were presumably caused somehow by the troubles of the
Hannibalic War period.8° Meanwhile, the whole case depends on the
assumption that the Romans were very simple-minded or ‘primitive’ in
their conception of the relation between religious act and agricultural
process; if one is to believe that the precise date of the religious act is
essential to the relationship, one must say also that if the act were not
performed at the right moment, the crops would die, the harvest fail, or
the stored grain rot. Nothing known to us about the Romans and their
gods suggests that this was true; what we should rather expect is that the
gods would stay favourable provided the ritual was properly performed
at the time prescribed by the priests, following tradition and rule.
There is another underlying assumption to be considered: that each
festival had a simple meaning and a simple reference. The Robigalia
provides the model here, for our sources connect it with mildew on the
corn and with nothing else. In fact, even this case is questionable, if only
because the sources are so inadequate, but in many other festivals there
were more interpretations than one, or perceived ambiguities in the
ritual. It is only a working assumption that in every case there must
once have been an unambiguous message in an unambiguous context,
which was only later on forgotten, misunderstood or confused. To take
even the crudest of categorizations: can we assume that every festival
must be either military or agricultural, but not both? A similar problem
arises in the categorization of the gods, because the tendency of some of
the most important of the Roman gods and goddesses is towards
complexity of function. In some cases this has led to extensive debates
about the original character of particular gods, based again on the
assumption that they must have started as powers in a particular area of
action and only acquired more complex roles with the passing of time. In
Dumeézil’s perspective (p. 581), it is fundamental that the earliest gods
should have reflected the three original functions of the Indo-Europeans
— gods of law and authority, gods of war, gods of production and
agriculture; if Roman gods fail to fit, that must be explained as the
subsequent accretion of different tasks. The three functions appear most
clearly in the gods of the ‘old triad’ — Iuppiter, Mars, Quirinus, the gods
of the three main flamines; these three illustrate my point very clearly,
because if Dumézil is right, all three eventually developed into the
domains of at least one and possibly both of the others. Iuppiter, the god

89 Michels 1967[G446], 145 ff. On the calendar in the period of the First Punic War cf. p. 545 n. 57.

% For the most disputed, see above p. 602 n. 87 for the Parilia; below p. 604 n. 95 for the October
horse; for the debate on the Lupercalia (15 February), Scholz 1980[G493], 289ff; Ulf 1982[Gsor]
(with survey of earlier views, 83ff). Different sources imply that the festival was (a) a fertility ritual;
(b) a purificatory or protective ritual; but it is most significant that it can evidently be re-perceived by
Caesar and his supporters as a coronation.

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604 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

of the highest city authority, also received the war-vows of the departing
general and provided the centre of the triumphal procession on his
return; but he also presided over the harvest in the vineyards.°! Mars, the
god of war, protected the crops and was hence very prominent in the
prayers and rituals of the farmer.°? Quirinus, who was far less prominent
in republican times, appears to have been a war god like Mars, but was
also connected with the mass of the population and with production; he
was then chosen as the divine aspect of Romulus, the first king of
Rome. Another clear instance would be Iuno, who is very much a
political goddess in Romeand its area, but also a warrior goddess and the
goddess of women and childbirth.%

In developing these characteristics, Roman gods and goddesses were
doing no more and no less than reflecting the lives of their worshippers.
The Roman farmer was a soldier and a voter as well; it is not surprising if
the protectors of his endeavours show a similar flexibility. If so, it
becomes very unlikely that the festivals and their significance should
have remained fixed within categories that applied neither to the gods
nor to the worshippers. If, then, we hear from one source that the
sacrifice of a horse to Marson 15 October (the equus October) was intended
to make the crops prosper, from another that it was a war-ritual,
connected with other October ceremonies concerned with the return of
the army from its year’s campaigning, we cannot assume a priori that one
of these meanings must be ‘right’, the other ‘wrong’.® It is perfectly
possible that both meanings had validity at the same time; or that the
ritual had different meanings for different groups of people.

This brings up the question of how far the individual citizen was
involved at all in the festivals of the old calendar. For the most part they
were conducted on the city’s behalf by dignitaries — priests, priestesses,
magistrates. The only obligation that generally lay on the individual
citizen was simply to abstain from work while the ceremonies were going
on. There was even some debate, reminiscent of rabbinical debate about
the Sabbath, as to what exactly would count as work and what not for this

% Tuppiter and the triumph: Versnel 1970[G742], ch. 11; luppiter and the vines: cf. above p. Gor
n. 84.

92 It is necessary to Dumézil’s whole position to interpret Mars as the war god, the god of the
second function; see Dumézil 1970/71[G399], 205ff. But a good deal of the evidence will not fit this
view — e.g. Cato, Agr. 141, in which Mars is quite clearly protecting the farmers; for different
interpretations, cf. Warde Fowler 1911{Gsog], 131ff; De Sanctis 1907-64[A37], 1v.2. 149ff; Latte
1960[G435], 114ff; Scholz 1970[G4gz].

93 Latte 1960[G435], 113; Koch 1960[G431], 17ff; 1965[(G432], 1306ff; Brelich 1960[G 367], 63ff;
Gagé 1966[G407], 1591ff; Dumézil 1970/71[G399], 246ff; Liou-Gille 1980[G4 38], 13 5ff.

% De Sanctis 1907-64[A37], Iv.2.137f; Latte 1960[G4335], 104ff; Palmer 1974[G461), 3ff.

95 On the problem of the October horse (15 October): Degrassi 1963[(G 388], 521; Warde Fowler
1899[G508], 241ff; Latre 1960(G435], 119f; Bayet 1969[G350], 82f; Scholz 1970[G492]; Dumézil
1975[G4oo], 145ff Scullard 1981[G494], 193.

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purpose. This seems to have been the extent of the citizen’s necessary
involvement. If so, it might be that these public performances were
something quite apart from the individual’s life, offering him no involve-
ment and no satisfaction, only the remote awareness that somebody
somewhere was protecting the city’s relationship with the gods. If this
argument were to be pursued further, the next step would be to say that
the religion of individuals did not lie in the state cults at all, but in the
cults of his family, his house or his farm. The paterfamilias was respon-
sible for maintaining the traditional rites of his household, the worship of
the Lares and Penates and the other sacra inherited from his ancestors and
destined to be passed on to his descendants (the sacra familiae):"” on the
estate, as we learn from the handbook of Cato the Elder,®8 the familia,
including the slaves, would gather together for ceremonies to purify the
fields and to pray to the gods for protection and for the fertility of crops
and herds. Within the family, there were also, of course, the stages of life
to be marked by rites de passage — the acceptance of the baby, the admission
of the child into the adult world, marriage, death and burial; all these fell
within the sphere of family responsibility, even if the pontifices were
responsible for the law in some respects and were available to give
advice.

It might seem a possibility that these private cults would have afforded
a separate religious world within which the individual Roman might
have found the personal experience of superhuman beings, the sense of
community and of his place in it, which the remoteness of the official cult
denied him, but which he needed to make sense of the world. As a matter
of fact, the terracottas dedicated in the context of health-cult may, as was
suggested in an earlier section,!© give us cause to doubt whether the
individual’s religious experience was in fact as narrowly bounded as
literary sources have been thought to imply. As far as family cults are
concerned, however, it is not so easy to believe in this deep but unattested
religious life: what has happened is that historians have projected into
this area, about which we really know so little, the elements that they
postulate as essential to any religion ~ personal prayer and contact with
the divine, deep feelings and beliefs about man’s relation to universal
forces — and that are missing from the public religious life of the Romans.
The theoretical problem is whether the elements of religious life can be
postulated a priori for any society, or whether they are different and
specific in different cultural situations. Almost all the evidence we have
suggests that in Rome in particular religious life focused on the public
cults, on the relationship between the city and the city’s gods and

% Seullard 1981(G494], 39-40. 7 Above, p. 587 n. 38. % Cato, Agr. 141.
® Above, p. 586 n. 36. 100 Above, p. 580.

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606 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

goddesses; the citizen participated through his identification with the
city and its interests, not to be underestimated in a period when the
citizen was voter as well as fighter in the city’s cause. If so, we should
accept that the Romans’ religious experience was profoundly different
from our own and that it is impossible to postulate what elements it
should or should not have contained.

The separation between city cult and family or farm cult should not in
any case be exaggerated. In some festivals, a central ceremony performed
in the city was accompanied by rites conducted in families or in the
countryside; in others, the only acts reported took place in the family,
though we may assume that there was some corresponding public ritual;
other festivals again took place in groups such as the curiae, the ancient
divisions of the Roman people.!®! The festivals for the dead (the
Parentalia in February and the Lemuria in May) were basically family
festivals in relation to the ancestors, though a Vestal performed a public
act of parentatio on the first day of the Parentalia;!02 at the Parilia in April,
our descriptions of what took place clearly refer to the farm, with the
shepherd and even the sheep leaping over bonfires;!% at the Saturnalia in
December, there were sacrifices at the temple of Saturn to open the
festivities, but the feasting, exchanging of roles between masters and
slaves, merrymaking and present-giving evidently all took place in the
households.!%* There were also quite specifically rural festivals — the
Ambarvalia (lustration of the fields), the Sementivae (festival of sowing)
and the Compitalia (celebrated at the crossroads both in Rome and in the
countryside); these do not have fixed dates in the calendars, though they
were a regular part of the ritual year.! On still other occasions, although
the festival had a public celebration it provided the context and occasion
for a family event: so at the Liberalia (17 March) boys after the age of
puberty took their toga virilis, the mark of their admission to the adult
community.!06 Sometimes the relationship of public and private ele-
ments is very obscure: at the Matralia (11 June) the public ceremonial
took place at the temple of Mater Matuta in the Forum Boarium; at this
festival, the matrons prayed for their nephews and nieces first, not their
own children; it seems likely that this means women throughout the city,

101 Curiae at the Fornacalia: Ov. Fast. 11.527-32; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 11.23; Latte 1960[G435],
143; Scullard 1981[G494], 73.

102 Parentalia (13-21 February): Degrassi 1963[G388], go8f; Latte 1960(G435], 98f; Scullard
1981(G494], 74f. Lemuria (9, 11, 13 May): Degrassi 196 3[G388], 454; Latte 1960[G435], 99; Scullard
1981[(G4g94], 118f.

103 Parilia (21 April): Ov. Fast. 1v.735ff; cf. Prop. 1v.4.75ff; Tib. 11.5.89ff. See also p. Goz n. 87.

104 Saturnalia (17-23 December): Degrassi 1963[G388], 539; Latte 1960(G435], 25 4f; Scullard
1981[G4g4], 205 ff.

105 Sementrivae: above p. 602 n. 85. Compitalia (December/January): Latte 1960[G435], of;
Scullard 1981[G494], 58. Ambarvalia (May): Latte 1960[G435], 42; Scullard 1981[G494], 124ff.

106 Ov. Fast. 111.771ff.

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RELIGION AND ACTION 607

not just those present at the temple, but it is very hard to be sure.!0”
However that may be, it is quite certain that a good deal of private ritual
accompanied public events.

The ritual activities of the Vestal Virgins afford another quite different
area in which there are connexions between public and private religion,
suggesting that these should not be separated in conception but seen as a
single system, operating with the same set of religious possibilities. The
Vestals are quite set apart from the other priestly groups.!°8 They lived in
a special house by the aedes of Vesta. They wore special dress, containing
some of the features of that of a bride. They had a specially privileged
legal status, including the right of making a will without the compliance
of a guardian (¢utor). They had (for Rome) unique religious responsibil-
ities and were subject to unique penalties if they failed either by letting
the sacred fire go out or by losing their virginity.! It is also the case that
we know a good deal more about their ritual programme than about that
of any other priestly group in Rome; nor does that seem to be a mere
accident of transmission, but genuinely reflects the high importance of
what they did for Rome.'!° They were involved in ceremonies and
symbolic acts, as argued below, which affected many areas of life in
Rome; but they and the cults connected with them also seem to have been
of the greatest importance to the religious structure of the other Latin
cities. We know that there had been Vestals in both the cities from which
Rome claimed descent — Alba Longa and Lavinium (pp. 56ff); the
Romans took pains in later times to maintain the priesthoods and rites in
both these places.'!! It seems certain that we are dealing with a deeply
embedded and characteristic area of the religious life of the Latins, one in
which many other elements of religious life can be found interacting and
interlocking.

The Vestals’ activities included a good deal of what might be called
household work: there is an obvious parallel between Vesta, the hearth
of the city, and the hearths of the houses of individual families; in terms of
this parallelism the Vestals would have represented the women of the
household.!!2 They were responsible for tending the sacred fire which
had never to be allowed to go out; they guarded the storehouse (penus)

‘07 Matralia (11 June): Degrassi 1963[G388], 468f; Warde Fowler 1899[G508], 154ff; Latte
1960[G435], 87; Dumézil 1970/71[G399], soff introduces very illuminating parallels from Vedic
India; for the sixth-century temples of Mater Matuta and Fortuna in the Forum Boarium, cf.
Castagnoli 1979[G374], 145ff.

108 The Vestals: Wissowa 1912[G3 19], 507ff; Koch 1958[G430], 1732ff; Latte 1960[G43 5], 108ff;
Koch 1960{G431], 1ff; Guizzi 1962{G422]; Ampolo 1971{E69), 443ff; Radke 1981{G474], 343ff.

109 Plut. Nwma 10; Quaest. Rom. 96; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. x11.67.4; see Koch 1960[G431), 1ff;
Guizzi 1962(G422), 141ff; Cornell 1981{G386), 27ff. 10 Rohde 1936[G48o], 106ff.

"1 Wissowa 1912(G5rg], 520-1; Weinstock 1937[G513], 428ff, Alfdldi 1965(I3], z5off; Dury-
Moyaers 1981{E24}; Radke 1981(G474], 343ff.

12 See the discussion in Beard 1980(G352], 12ff.

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608 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

and they ritually cleaned it out and expelled the dirt; they gathered the
first ears of corn from the harvest, ground and baked them to provide the
sacred corn-meal (mola salsa) that was used to sanctify the victim at
sacrifices. 113

The simplest hypothesis to explain all this activity would be that the
life of the Vestals was the life of the ancient regal household and that they
themselves represented the women of the king’s family. The problem is
to know which women of the king’s family. They fit neither the role of
wives nor that of daughters. Virgins would scarcely have done as wives;
daughters of the household could scarcely have reached the status and
privileges of the Vestal, whose legal status is precisely not that of a
dependent relation.''4 It seems quite certain that the king’s household is
offering us too simple a picture; in any case, the Vestals’ ritual connex-
ions are with the pontifex not with the king. A recent study!5 has
suggested that the key lies precisely in the ambiguity of their status — they
were marginal between matrons and virgins, marginal too between men
and women. It is this intermediate sexual status that marked their
separateness and their sacredness. But they were marginal in other ways
too: they mediated the realms of public and private, by carrying on
private duties in the public sphere; and their ritual programme involved
them in all major aspects of Roman life, so linking separate parts of life. If
anything went wrong in the house of the Vestals, the threat was not to
any particular activity but to the whole sa/us of the Roman people; so
unchastity was not just an offence, it occasioned prodigies requiring
extraordinary measures ofexpiation.'!6 Sa/us was not just the safety of the
city; it included the health and fertility of the whole community, its
animals and its farms.'!7 At the Fordicidia, after the pregnant cow had
been sacrificed to Tellus (the Earth), the unborn calf was taken and
burned by the senior Vestal: the calf too was an ambiguous being — living
butnot born, sacrificed but not capable of being a proper victim; its ashes
were then preserved by the Vestals and used, mixed with the dried blood
of the previous October’s ‘October horse’, to sprinkle on the bonfires of
the Parilia, for the purification of the shepherd and the sheep.!!8 The
precise implications of this set of symbolic acts may not be recoverable;
but it does make clear the importance of the Vestals in linking the fertility
of the earth, the health and safety of the flocks, and the city’s security in
the military sense. Human fertility was also involved in the Vestals’
sphere; and here, for once, we have the help of myths which fit with and
clarify a set of rituals. It is told of various founders or heroes of Latium
that they were born of a virgin impregnated either by a spark from the

"13 Latte 1960[G435], 108ff. "4 On legal aspects in particular see Guizzi 1962[Gqz2].

NS Beard 1980[G352], 1 2ff. "6 Cornell 1981[G386], 31ff. "7 Koch 1960[Gq31], 11ff.
"18 Above p. 602 n. 85 and n. 87.

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RELIGION AND ACTION Go9

hearth or by a phallus which sprang from the hearth.'!9 The Roman
Vestals were not only responsible for guarding the hearth, the undying
flame, but also for the keeping of a phallus in the aedes Vestae.'2° The
significance of the flame must therefore, in at least one of its aspects, lie in
its connexion with the foundation, generation and continuation of the
race. Vesta herself encapsulated all the elements; she was the flame, she
was the virgin, she was Vesta the Mother.

Once it is clear how the Vestals, themselves withdrawn from all the
ordinary activities of life, linked all the different areas of that life at the
ritual level, it becomes easier to see why there was so powerful an
association between them and the survival of Rome. They provided the
home for the various talismans of that survival.!2! In a real crisis, it was
the sacra in their care that had to be saved at any cost, even the cost of
one’s own family, as in the case of the plebeian who saved them from the
Gauls.!22 There is ample evidence to show how deeply, even at a quite
late date, the Romans felt the threat to their city, if there was any
suggestion of an irregularity involving the Vestals or their sacra.'23

It is not enough to think of these cults, or the others discussed in this
section, only in terms of the dangers that would arise if they were not
performed; it is essential to assess their positive value as well. To do so,
however, implies an understanding of what it was that a Roman expected
his religion to do for him. It was suggested earlier in this section that to
speak in terms of his ‘feelings’, ‘experiences’ or ‘beliefs’ is to risk
introducing misleading notions about the individual’s religious needs or
‘spiritual life’. If to do that is excluded, then it would be possible to argue
that religion is the wrong word for what is under discussion; this is a
matter of verbal choice and not one that can profitably be pursued here.
What we can say is that the gods and the rituals addressed to those gods
enter into every institution and every transaction of public life; into the
whole of the Romans’ system of orienting themselves in time and space;
it provided them with an essential point of reference in their organization
of society and in particular their organization of power. We tend to think
of the rituals of power as no more than reflections of the reality of power,
established by quite other, more practical means; but in a society which
had no policemen, no secret services, no security firms, the symbolism of
power was far closer to constituting the reality of power as well. In this

sense, religion played an essential part in the functioning of ancient city
life.

"19 Servius Tullius: Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. tv.2; Pliny, HN xxxvi.204; Ov. Fast. v1.627ff; Plut. De
fort. Rom. 10. Romulus: Plut. Rom. 2.3-5. Caeculus of Praeneste: Serv. Aen. vit.678.

10 Pliny, HN xxvitt.39. 121 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 11.66.

12 Livy v.qo.7-10, with Ogilvie 1965{B129], 723; above, p. 306.

123° See, for instance, Cic. Font. 46-8.

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610 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

V. ADJUSTING TO THE NEW REPUBLIC

The last two sections of this chapter attempt, within the severe limits our
sources impose, to examine some aspects of historical change, in contrast
to the static account of phenomena given so far. This section deals with
the only event of which it can certainly be said that it radically changed
the nature of the city’s religious and political life, that is the overthrow of
the monarchy in the late sixth century; the final section will deal with the
continuing tradition of change and innovation during the period of the
early to middle Republic.

The first problem which the founders of the Republic must have faced
was what they should do about the kingship. The step of abolishing
kings and replacing them by magistrates with a fixed term of office was a
revolutionary one in its religious as well as political implications and
should still be seen as such, even if the Romans had precedents amongst
their neighbours for what they did. In simple terms, the solution was that
the title rex should continue to be borne in Rome; its bearer was to be a
patrician, a member of the college of pontifices chosen for life, called in full
the rex sacrorum.'24 This ‘religious’ king and his successors continued to
be members of the pontifical college throughout the republican period,
though seldom mentioned.!25 It must have been a difficult and delicate
task to define the new king’s position in relation to the other priests, but
especially to the other members of the college to which he would now
belong. ;

Here as so often, the only secure knowledge of the situation comes
from the late republican period. By that time, the rex had become an
obscure member of the college, with a largely forgotten range of ritual
duties; meanwhile the pontifex maximus, the elected leader of the
pontifices, had become the most powerful of the great political priests.
The implication in Livy’s account of the foundation of the Republic in
Book 1: of his Histories!*6 is that the subordination of the rex to the
pontifex maximus dates back to a deliberate decision taken by the
founders; this, then, would be the solution to the problem: the king’s
potential threat was neutralized by making him a priest subordinate to
the pontifex. It has been argued, however, that this is all anachronistic,
another retrojection into the fifth century B.c. of reality as it was known
to historians writing in the first century B.c.!27 On this view, the king

124 Wissowa 1912(G519], so4ff; De Sanctis 1907-64[A}37], Iv.2.355f; Latte 1960[G435], 195f;
Momigliano 1971[F50], 357 = Quarto Contributo 393; Dumézil 1970/71[G399], 5 76ff; cf. Ampolo
1971[E69], 44 3ff.

125 The known reges are listed by Szemler 1972{G497], 68; 174f. None of them achieved any special
distinction. See also p. 611 n. 130 below. 126 T2.4.

177 The argument is most fully developed by Latte 1960{Gq35], 195; contra Dumézil 1970/
71[G399], to2ff. The most interesting evidence is the priestly order preserved by Festus 299 L — rex,

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THE NEW REPUBLIC 611

would originally have kept his authority as head of the religion and only
slowly in the centuries that followed would the pontifex maximus have
emerged as the more powerful figure. There can hardly be any certain
answer to this question, but some of the issues involved raise important
problems, which must be discussed in more detail.

The rex sacrorum was subject to two sets of limitations, which must
almost certainly go back to the beginning of the Republic and which give
the best indication of the intentions of the founders. First, he was
absolutely excluded from playing any part in political life — he could not
hold political office of any kind and he did not sit in the senate.'28 This
puts him in a different category from the major flamines, who seem not to
have been excluded from political life, but only limited in what they were
allowed to do without violation of their sacred duties. The famen Dialis
seems even to have had the right to an automatic seat in the senate, or at
least his claim to this was reasserted in the third century on the grounds of
lapsed precedents.!29 Evidently, the rex was quite deliberately excluded
from this sphere. The second limitation placed on the rex was that of
collegiality: whatever his previous relations with the priests had been, he
had evidently been set apart from them, perhaps using the different
groups of priests as advisers in his active role; now he was to become a
member of one college and not of the others, having a share in religious
decision-making, but only in the pontifical sphere and only as a member,
like the flamines and the pontifices.'30 He did retain an important ritual
programme of his own — he held a sacrifice on the Kalends of each
month, announced the dates of the festivals of the month on the Nones,
appeared in the Comitium on certain fixed dates (24 March and 24 May)
and sacrificed there.!3!

To characterize this whole reform, it can be argued that there was a
deliberate separation of religious elements from political ones; possibly,
the Romans were aware of foreign precedents for doing this. At the very
least, what happened was a step towards the creation of separate religious
and political areas; but, if so, the process was very one-sided and
incomplete, because, while the rex was certainly stripped of his power of
action in everyday life, it is very far from true that he kept all his religious

three famines, pontifex maximus. This must indeed reflect some archaic reality quite unlike the known
late republican order, but it is impossible to show that it is the reality of the early republican rather
than of the regal period. 128 Above, p. 589 n. 48.

129 Livy xxx1.50.7; the point was established by C. Valerius Flaccus who had become flamren
against his will (Livy xxvit.8.4); he later rose to be praetor in 183 B.c. (MRR 1.379).

130 Cic. Har. Resp. 12 gives 2 list of the members of the college of pontifices present at a particular
meeting of the college; the rex sacrorum of the time is listed like the others, that is, in the order in
which they joined the college.

13 For his ritual programme: Degrassi 1963[(G388], 327ff (Kalends and Nones); 415f (Feb. 24);
430 (March 24); 461 (May 24); 538 (Dec. 15); Weinstock 1937[Gs5 12], 861f; Momigliano 1971{F5o],
357 = Quarto Contribute 395ff.

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612 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

authority. It would, therefore, be a misinterpretation to say that the gods
were conceived of as willing to accept changes in the secular sphere, but
unwilling to accept them in their own sphere. For instance, one essential
element of the king’s religious position must have been his conduct of
the auspices, but these were transferred wholesale to the new magis-
trates. Moreover, if the king had exercised general authority over
religion (and it is difficult to think he had not), this authority must have
been divided under the Republic between the senate, the magistrates and
the priests; even if this should be thought of as a slow evolution not a
sudden decision, it must have been to some extent apparent to contempo-
raries. In other words, the gods were not seen as frozen in old ways: there
could be religious changes decided on by the community, no doubt after
proper consultation with the gods themselves. That this was possible
shows an important and continuing principle in Roman religious life.

Once it has been accepted that placing the rex in one college and
excluding him from any other office already implied major changes in his
religious as well as his political position, it is perhaps a secondary issue
whether the pontifex maximus was made the head of the college at once or
only slowly became so. It follows from the structure analysed in earlier
sections, that the senior pontifex would sooner or later have emerged as
the more important figure, irrespective of anyone’s plans or intentions,
simply because he had access to more of the areas into which religious
authority was disseminated, especially to the senate. It is inconceivable
that the rex should have maintained his authority, given his disadvan-
tages in terms of how the republican system eventually worked; it is only
if the system worked quite differently in the early Republic (the possi-
bility is discussed above, p. 579f), that sense could be made of the idea of
the rex as the true religious leader at that time; only given a separate
religious area could there have been a religious leader isolated from
political life. In the Rome we know from later, the pontifex maximus had
to become the dominant figure. The record of the early priests does not
help here: it is remarkable that, despite the fact that record-keeping was a
priestly occupation, neither reges sacrorum nor pontifices maximi appear to
have been major political figures in the early history of the Republic.'32

The only hope of making further progress with the problem is
through consideration of the position eventually occupied by the pontifex
maximus. It is misleading to call him a high priest: most of his actions
seem to have been taken on behalf of, or as agent of, the college; he had
no elaborate programme of rituals that he alone could carry out, as for
instance did the famines; he had the right to impose fines on priests to
recall them to their religious duties, subject to appeal to the people, but

132 See above, p. Gio n. 125.

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THE NEW REPUBLIC 613

this is a right he may perfectly well already have possessed under the
kings, certainly not one he is likely to have inherited from the rex.'35
There is only one area in which he had special authority of his own and
that is in relation to the Vestals and their cult. He performed the
ceremony of the induction of a new Vestal, using an ancient form of
words; he and the Vestals alone had the right of access to their holiest
places of cult; he exercised disciplinary powers over them if they failed in
their obligations; he acted ritually with them on certain occasions.134 In
doing all this, the pontifex was exercising power in the most sensitive of
all areas of ritual communication between men and gods. If any sense is to
be made of the idea that the pontifex had at some stage replaced the rex,
this seems a likely area in which it could have happened. If the Vestals
were indeed originally the daughters of the royal household, their
original sacred links would necessarily have been with the king; if so, the
pontifex must have replaced him at least in this role.!35 In fact, this whole
construction is flimsy: the Vestals cannot be regarded as the daughters of
a household (see above, p. 608f) and the king’s special connexion with
them is no more than a guess. But, more importantly for the present
argument, the idea of a transfer from rex to pontifex in this area seems to
make nonsense of the whole supposed reform: the theory of the reform is
supposed to be that some of the king’s ritual performances were so
specific to that role and so holy that the gods would only accept them
from a king; if the king’s association with the Vestals could conceivably
be handed over to the pontifex, in defiance of the supposed age-old links
between the king and his sometime daughters, there seems to be no
reason left for the title to have survived at all. The simplest view is that
the pontifex had his special connexion with the Vestals because he had
always had such a connexion, even in the days when the kings were really
kings.

The purpose underlying these detailed arrangements was that who-
ever bore the title rex should never again be in a position to threaten the
city with a tyranny. There was also a religious penalty invoked against
any aspirant to tyranny: he could be declared sacer, that is to say dedicated
to the gods, meaning that he could be killed without the killer incurring
retribution.'36 It might be expected that there would be other signs of a
reaction either against monarchy as such, or at least against the Etruscan
regime which had just been removed; but in some ways, the continuities

133 For his right to impose a fine (multa), see, for instance, Livy xxxv11.5 1.4ff; xL.42.9ff; Bleicken
195 7[G353], 345ff. 14 Guizzi 1962[Gq22].

138. The only evidence that gives colour to the idea is the ritual formula quoted by Servius, Aen.
x.228: ‘vigilasne, rex? vigila.’ (Are you on the watch, king? Be on the watch.) This shows the Vestals
in their role as defenders of the safety of Rome (cf. Koch 1960{G431], 11ff), the guardians of the
undying flame; it is hardly necessary to explain it as a survival from primitive household life.

136 Livy 11.8.2.

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614 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

between regal and republican Rome seem more striking than the imme-
diate changes. The most striking continuity of all concerns Iuppiter
Capitolinus and his grandiose new temple. The tradition is that the
temple was built by the last Tarquin, finished by the time of his fall,
dedicated by the very first college of magistrates of the Republic.'3”
Various criticisms can be made of this as a historical account, but it does
at least encapsulate the ambivalent standing of the cult between monar-
chy and Republic. The position of Iuppiter within the triad, the domi-
nant position and scale of the building, the nature of the cult-practice, all
suggest that the king designed the temple asa grandiose expression of his
power and that of his regime. It would perhaps have been going too far to
expect that the temple would have been razed to the ground when the
Tarquins fell; but it is still surprising that what happened was the precise
opposite — the cult became central to the new republican era. It was the
focus of the religious activity of the annual magistrates; the god was
accepted as the fount of the auspicia upon which the relationship of the
city with the gods rested; the victorious generals of Rome returned to
Rome to lay their laurels at the feet of Iuppiter Capitolinus.'38 The
ceremonial of the triumph and the related ceremonial of the procession
before the games ( pompa circensis) illustrate the point vividly; the celebra-
tor in each case is actually dressed up — and made up — in the guise of the
king and, at the same time, of the statue of Iuppiter himself, as he
appeared in the Capitolinetemple. This can hardly be understood except
as the retention of consciously regal ceremonial under the new regime.!39
This is not the only example of the survival into the Republic of
symbols of power belonging to Etruscan monarchic practice, though itis
perhaps the most dramatic one.!40 It seems comprehensible only on the
assumption that the Etruscan ceremonial was not perceived by the
Romansas in any way alien or arbitrarily imposed on them. The religious
world they knew had become saturated with Greek and Etruscan influ-
ences that had merged with and transformed the Latin culture of their
ancestors. Iuppiter was, after all, an ancient Latin deity with an ancient
Latin name. Meanwhile, there was no alternative high culture or vo-
cabulary of ceremonial to which they could turn. They were part of a
loosely defined Etruscan cultural empire and it would probably have
been as difficult then as it is now to define the boundaries between
Etruscan and Roman religion, even had they conceived of doing so.
There is a different sense also in which the tradition about the

137 For the tradition of the dedication in republican times: Livy 11.8; Cic. Dom. 139; Tac. Hist.
111.72; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v.35.3; above, p. 177.

138 Auspicia: Cic. Leg. 1.20; Wissowa 1912[G 319], 119. Triumph: Livy xtv.39.11; Versnel
1970[G 742], 66ff. 139 Bonfante Warren 1970[G35 36], 4off.

140 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 111.61—2; for a vigorous statement of the case, Alfdldi 1965 [13], 200ff.

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THE NEW REPUBLIC 615

changeover from monarchy to Republic is surprisingly muted: the
tradition is that most of the major features of the constitution and the
religion of Rome were devised and put into effect by the kings, who are
presented in our first-century sources as successive founders of the
different areas of public life (pp. goff). Little credit is given to the leaders
of the republican period. In the form in which we have this, it is of
course a literary construction put together in the late republican
period.'4! It incorporates far earlier myths, legends and conceptions
about the deeds of the founders and the early kings, but it would be very
hazardous to assume that the general message of the tradition would
have been recognizable to Romans of the fifth century B.c. All the same
there does seem to be a shortage of information of this kind referring to
the early Republic; and unless all these traditions about the contributions
of the monarchs are to be written off as late fictions, they must at least
have been transmitted through the early republican period. If the early
republicans were themselves deeply hostile to any suggestion of monar-
chy or of monarchic practice, it is very hard to see how that could
possibly have happened. Again, we seem to have to reckon with strong
continuities as well as a sharp disruption, if sense is to be made of the
tradition which has come down to us.

The overall result of the events that have been considered might be
called the republican religious order. We have seen earlier that one of its
most remarkable characteristics was that authority over religious matters
was so widely diffused. The result is that no individual or family could
construct a monopoly of religious, any more than of political, power. It
can hardly be altogether an accident that the religious and political
aspects of the system should reflect one another in this respect. But the
situation is not one of straightforward imitation: priests are not officials
elected for one year as were magistrates, but chosen by the surviving
members of the college for life; and the differentiation of the priestly
groups must already have been a remarkable feature of Roman religious
organization in the time of the kings, as the Roman tradition itself
implies. The similarity must then have resulted, not from the same
decisions being taken, but by similar objectives being aimed at. If it is
assumed that the king in the regal period acted as the central religious
authority co-ordinating the advice of the different colleges, then his
subordinates, whether by planning or not, would have produced a
diffusion of authority; if that is the right way to look at it, then the steps
considered in this section were indeed the first moves towards a republi-
can type of religion.

141 See especially Cic. Rep. n; Livy 1.

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616 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

VI. INNOVATION AND CHANGE

It was argued in the first section of this chapter that a narrative history of
early Roman religion, giving the ‘facts’ and placing them in an evolution-
ary or explanatory sequence, was impossible or, rather, attainable only at
the price of imposing an arbitrary a priori scheme. Later sections have
tried to show that religion in Rome in the republican period was not a
separate area of life but integrated into the political and social structure,
in such a way that every group or activity had its religious aspect. For this
reason, too, it is arguable that there cannot be a separate history of
Roman religion in the way there can bea separate history of Christianity.

In the period under consideration, there were many changes and
innovations — new temples and cults, new or revised ceremonies,
changes of procedure or of the rules of membership in the priestly
colleges; there was another category of change too that we might infer or
guess at, for one of the implications of the system was that social, political
or economic changes, or changes in Rome’s relations with other states,
would all have had religious repercussions. This second category is likely
to have had profounder effects in the long run, but it is the first category
that our sources tell us about, the ones noticed by contemporary record-
ers. The most serious distinction (which may but does not necessarily
correspond to the two categories) is between changes that could be
assimilated to the overall structure and those which threatened to
transform it. Innovation in one form or another is certainly a central
feature of the situation; and scholars have in the past been misled into
thinking that each new cult meant a confession of failure, an effort by
despairing priests to shore up a collapsing edifice. In fact, the new gods,
goddesses and rituals were for the most part assimilated without difh-
culty to the existing complex of old cults. Sometimes, they were defi-
nitely recognized as non-Roman, but accepted through evocatio, through
the vows of generals or through the recommendations found in the
Sibylline Books. More and more as time passed, and especially in the
third century B.c., they were abstractions or personifications — Concord,
Victory, Hope, Faith, Honour and Virtue.'42 In some cases, it may be
that an abstraction came to take on a more specific personality, as was
perhaps the case with Venus.!43 The third century saw an intensification
of the process, as Rome’s frontiers and contacts widened and as her
military successes brought in new resources to be invested in building
projects. Thus, Aesculapius (Asclepius, the Greek god of healing) was
introduced in the z9os; underworld gods, Dis Pater and Proserpina, were

142 De Sanctis 1907-64[A37], IV.2.295ff; Latte 1960[G43 5], 233-42; Weinstock 1971[G5 17], 168F

(Fides); 260 (Concordia); 230ff (Honos/Virtus); for Victoria, below, p. 617 n. 146.
'43 Schilling 195 4[G486}.

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INNOVATION AND CHANGE 617

a central part of the Secular Games, probably first celebrated in 249 B.C.;
and the later years of the century saw a still further quickening of the
process.'44 Sometimes, again, ancient gods or goddesses were offered a
completely new type of cult: in the case of Ceres, whose cult is already
quite well established in the rituals of the old calendar, a quite distinct set
of observances, known to the Romans as the ‘Greek rites’ (Graeca sacra),
was introduced at some point before the Hannibalic Wars.'45 In at least
one case we can trace the impact on their decisions of events outside the
Roman area, because the cult of Victoria, not an old Roman cult, was
evidently derived from their awareness of Greek Victory cults in the late
fourth century and especially of the conquests and the far-famed invinci-
bility of Alexander the Great. Victoria received a temple in 294 B.C.; at
the same period other Roman war gods began to attract the title Victor or
Invictus. Before long, as the early Roman issues of coinage show, the
new goddess was playing a prominent role in the Roman imagery of
war.!46

Many innovations were inspired by the Sibylline Books, the collec-
tions of oracles, kept and consulted by the decemviri sacris faciundis, which
served to provide legitimation for what might otherwise have been seen
as deviations from the ancestral tradition. The story of the purchase of
these Books dates their arrival to the later regal period, when King
Tarquin the Proud bought them from an old woman who offered him
nine for a certain price; when he refused to buy, she destroyed three of
them and offered him the remaining three for the same price; he refused
again, so she destroyed three more and offered him the last three, still for
the same price. Impressed at last, he paid the price and these three were
the books kept by the college.'4” In other accounts, and regularly in the
later tradition, the books are called Sibylline and connected with the
Sibyl of Cumae; they were believed to contain the destiny of the
Romans.'48 The anecdote, the connexion with the Sibyl of Cumae and the
broad prophetic content may all be late accretions to the tradition; but it
is clear enough that the Romans did have a set of oracles in Greek verse,
regarded as of early origin though not so early as the foundation of the
main institutions in the time of King Numa. The many consultations of
the books recorded in the historians do not suggest that the books
contained very much that we should call prophetic, but rather sets of
remedia, rituals through which the threatened harm implied by the

‘4 Aesculapius: Livy x.47.7; Latte 1960[G43 5], 225ff. Secular Games: Latte 1960[G435)], 246ff;
Nilsson 1920[G435 3], 1696ff; Weinstock 1971([G517], 191ff.

145 Le Bonniec 1958[(G360], 379ff; for the date of the arrival of the new cult see Arnobius, Adv.
Gent. 11.73. 6 Weinstock 1958[G516], 2304ff; 1971[G317], 91ff; above, pp. 416; 418.

147 The story of King Tarquin, the old woman and the books: Dion. Hal. Aat. Rom. 1v.62. The
books: Diels 1890[G393]; Hoffman 193 3[G426]; Gagé 193 5[G406); Latte 1960[G435], 160f; Radke
1963(G472]), 111 5ff. 48 On the origins of the connexion cf. Radke 1963[G472], 1146.

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618 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

prodigies might be averted. It was in this context that the Books
suggested new cults and rituals, providing legitimation by their antiquity
and their foreignness. Another source of foreign wisdom, also available
to the senate, was provided by the saruspices summoned from Etruscan
cities; so far as Roman evidence goes, these too were in the early period
offering little or nothing that could be called prophecy.!49 The lack of
evidence is not necessarily to be trusted; this may very well be a case
where the nature of the tradition is censoring our information and
obscuring the variety of religious life in the period. It is certain that a
tradition of prophetic skill survived amongst the Etruscans and that they
still possessed it in the late republican period. Whatever the role of the
senate’s various advisers, there is no doubt that the introduction of new
deities and forms continued throughout the period. At the same time, the
Romans were establishing their practice of admitting new citizens from
the surrounding area into their community as full citizens (pp. 281; 3 18f);
these open boundaries at the human level are surely inseparable from
open boundaries to foreign gods.'5°
To say that innovation was a normal mode of the functioning of this

religious system, and hence supportive of it not threatening to it, is not to
say that successive introductions did not bring with them new attitudes
or ideas, enshrined in the new cults. The problem is to assess which were
the new attitudes or ideas, given that we have such an inadequate grasp of
the religious possibilities in earlier-times. Thus, the /ectisternium ritual of
399 B.c. has often been seen as a great turning-point, partly because of the
choice of deities involved ~ clearly under Greek influence; partly because
the statues of the deities were brought out and offered a meal, an apparent
step on the road to complete anthropomorphism. But Greek influence,
we now know, goes back more than a century; and even the meal seems
likely to have been following the model of the epu/um Iovis, celebrated at
the games in September and November.!5! Another great turning-point
in modern accounts has been the arrival of healing cults, beginning with
Aesculapius, whose temple was dedicated in the early third century: but
here again the discovery of healing-cults, with a female presiding deity,
widely spread in Central Italy forces us to reassess what if anything was
new to Rome in the Aesculapius cult, apart from the gender of the
deity.!52

149 For the baruspices in general cf. above, p. $83 n. 24; for their responsa in this period: MacBain
1982[G44o], 43ff (lists at 8 2ff); their reticence should be contrasted with the unmistakably prophetic
elements in the responsum discussed in Cicero’s Har. Resp.

180 North 1976[(G45 5], 11.

'5t The dectisternium of 399 B.c.: Livy v.13; see Warde Fowler 1911[Gysog], 262ff; Bayet
1926[G 348], 260ff; Gagé 1935[Gqo6), 168ff; Latte 1960[G435], 242ff; Ogilvie 1965[Br29], 65 5ff.
Epulum ovis: above, p. 597, n. 76.

132 See above, p. 580. Aesculapius: Livy x.47.7; cf. Ov. Met. xv.626. For the myth of his arrival:
Latte 1960[G435], 225f.

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INNOVATION AND CHANGE 619

There are all the same some instances where it is possible to be certain
that changes did occur: in the Greek rites of Ceres, introduced in the third
century B.C., as opposed to the original Italian cults, the festival centres
on the women of the community, especially on mothers and daughters,
reflecting the relationship of the two goddesses Ceres and Proserpina.!53
There had naturally always been a place for women in cult-practice and
certain festivals in which they had specific roles; there were also various
goddesses devoted to the special concern of women with fertility and
child-birth. Little or nothing was under women’s control: the priests
were all male, except for the Vestals who had to be conceded a quasi-male
status to mark them off from their sisters. Women could certainly make
vows and dedications in private contexts; and there are even hints that
private cults were specially women’s responsibility. The new Greek rites,
however, brought with them Greek priestesses, who had to be given
Roman citizenship, and a distinct place in public ceremonial and proces-
sion for the women of Rome.'54 There was, of course, nothing threaten-
ing about this: male priests were in ultimate control; and the Ceres cult
gave ritual reinforcement to the family and reproductive roles of women.
All the same, it represents the giving of more prominence to women in
religious life and may well foreshadow later developments in the pro-
gress of women towards a degree of independence.

The obvious direction to look for religious change of deep signifi-
cance would be the area of social conflict, more particularly to the
conflicts that produced the oligarchy of the third century B.c., composed
of the dominant plebeian as well as the traditional patrician families. It is
implicit in the conception of religious life proposed in this chapter, that
any long-standing division in society would eventually find some reli-
gious expression, since any kind of continuing, coherent action would
have had to be put into relation with the gods and their involvement in
Roman life. To a limited extent, it may be possible to detect the lines
along which this might have happened, both in the great struggle
between the plebeians and the patricians and in the even more obscure
struggle between the great gentes and the interest of the city institutions.
The recorded information about either plebeian or gentile religion is,
however, very flimsy; and since, at least in the early stages, it is still very
controversial what was happening at the level of social conflict, any
reconstruction of the religious effects must be even more tentative. It
seems to be beyond dispute that the patrician families claimed special
authority in relation to the community’s religious life. The strong form
of that claim — that only patricians could communicate with the gods
through the auspices!55— can never have been established, since there were

53 Le Bonniec 1958[G 360], 379ff. 4 Cic. Balb. 55. 55 Livy tv.z.

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620 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

apparently non-patrician senior magistrates at least intermittently in
every period; but the patricians did control the priesthoods, or at least
the most important ones, as they easily could through the system of
collegiate co-option. There is no reason to doubt the tradition that
plebeians attained priesthoods when specially reserved places were
created for them in the colleges: this happened in 367 B.c. for the duoviri —
then increased to ten, and in 300 B.c. for the augurs and pontifices,
increased to eight or nine.!56 Other priestly places, including reserved
places in the major colleges, continued to be a patrician preserve. In this
sense, the religion of the city in the fifth century B.c. was controlled by
the patricians.

It is an important question how far the plebeians developed their own
religion in the fifth century B.c. They certainly adopted the temple of
Ceres, Liber and Libera as their centre and as the storehouse of their
records, guarded by the aedi/es, who probably took their title from the
temple;!57 it is tempting to see the aedi/es as the priests of the movement,
while the tribunes are the magistrates, but there is no clear evidence that
they so acted.!58 In the case of Ceres, Liber and Libera and possibly of
other temples built in the early years of the fifth century, it has been
suggested that they not only show the influence of the plebeians, but also
that of the South Italian Greeks.'59 Mercury, corresponding to Hermes,
was said to have had his temple dedicated by a plebeian and had strong
associations with trade and traders.!© The temple of the Castores is more
problematic; we know that the cult of the Dioscuri in thoroughly Greek
form existed at Lavinium (p. 579), which had suchclose links with Rome.
The Roman cult, however, shows its own very characteristic forms,
especially its emphasis on Castor to the exclusion of Pollux — irresistibly
reminiscent of the emphasis on Romulus to the exclusion of Remus.!é!
Also, the Dioscuri ought to be the patrons of the cavalry, who may not be
specially patrician, but are not specially plebeian either.'62 It remains a
possibility that all these cults reflect South Italian contacts and hence a

156 367 B.C.: Livy vI.37.12; 42.2; Wissowa 1912{Gs5 19], $ 34f. Lex Ogulnia of 300 B.c.: Livy x.6—9;
Wissowa 1912{G5 19], 492.

'57 De Sanctis 1907—G4{A37], !v.2.194f; Le Bonniec 1958[(G360], 348; above, p. 225f.

188 Sabbatucci 1954[G705]; Richard 1978(H76], 580ff.

159 Ceres, Liber, Libera: Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. v1.17 (who gives the tradition that the recommen-
dation came from the Sibylline Books); for discussion: Le Bonniec 1958[G3Go], 236ff; Latte
1960[G435], 161f. The suggestion of South Italian connexions: Momigliano 1967{H61], 310f;
discussion: Richard 1978{H76], scoff.

160 Mercury: Livy 1.27.5—6; cf. Ogilvie 1965{B129], 303f; Richard 1978[H76], 513ff; Combet-
Farnoux 1980[G 384], 18ff.

161 Foundation of the temple: Livy 11.42.5; the problem of its origins: Latte 1960[G435], 1734
Ogilvie 1965[B129], 288; 347; Richard 1978(H76], 510f; character of the Roman cult: Schilling
1960[G487], 1776. 162 Richard 1978[H76], 484ff; cf. above, p. 167f.

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INNOVATION AND CHANGE 621

specifically plebeian religious life; but it should be remembered, first,
that the dedication of temples accepted by the state must have been under
patrician control if anything was and, secondly, that we depend on dates
preserved in the priestly, that is, patrician tradition for whatever know-
ledge we have. If plebeian temples began their lives as part of a revol-
utionary enterprise, it seems unlikely that we should hear about their
existence earlier than the date of the officially accepted dedication
ceremony.

There are other areas where the plebeians may have made a distinctive
contribution: one of the oldest sets of /udi (games) were called plebeian
and here there is no doubt of the connexion. In fact, Cicero calls these
games the oldest of all and they have at their heart one of the two ‘feasts of
Iuppiter’.16 It is a controversial but not indefensible idea that games as
such (as opposed to the ludic elements in archaic festivals) were a
plebeian contribution to Roman life. In this case they may have been
originally unrecognized and subsequently accepted by the religious
authorities. Finally, on the view argued in this chapter, it is inevitable
that the political activities of the plebeians must have had religious
aspects: the electing of magistrates and the passing of laws (p/ebiscita)
could not have taken place without the gods’ involvement. No doubt;
whatever religious forms the plebeians employed were rejected as invalid
by the patrician priests, but eventually accepted as were plebeian assem-
blies and magistrates. Little reflection of this survives: the plebeians
certainly took oaths to guarantee their tribunes;!6 and late-republican
tribunes claimed powers to report omens and to perform consecration
and cursing;!6 all these must once have been resisted and subsequently
accepted by the priestly authorities.

The cults of the gentes present a rather similar problem; we have
enough evidence to show that they were once an important factor, but
scarcely enough to assess their significance. Certain gentes did maintain
ancient cults in the late Republic, not always located in Rome itself; thus
the cult of the Iulii was celebrated at Bovillae in Latium.!© The dedica-
tion to Mars by the soda/es of Poplios Valesios discovered at Satricum (it is
not clear whether he himself came from Rome, Satricum or elsewhere)
seems to give a glimpse of a quite different social organization in which
the clients or the war-band of a leader might act as a unity for religious
purposes.'67 It is at least a possible view of the situation in the early
decades of the Republic, that the city’s control had broken down to the
point where control of religion as of other areas had passed into the hands

163 Cic. 1m Verr. 5.36; cf. Le Bonniec 1958[(G360], 3 50ff; Richard 1978(H76}, 118ff.
14 Festus 422 L. 165 Bayet 1960(G349], 46ff.

16 ILLRP 270; ef. Weinstock 1971[G517], 8ff.

‘67 Versnel in Stibbe et al. 1980{B263]; 1982[B268], 193ff; above, p. 97.

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G22 12. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

of the great leaders of the gentes.'68 If such a situation ever existed, little
trace of it has survived into the later tradition. The lack of information
about gentile religion is even more surprising than that about plebeian
religion. After all, on some views the plebeians were a powerful active
group for a relatively short period in the early Republic, after which their
activity was absorbed into those of the city as a whole; the genfes must
have had cult activities of the greatest importance for centuries. The
almost total disappearance of this may suggest a deliberate policy on the
part of the priests.

It has to be a matter for speculation whether there was a time of
conflict at the end of the early republican period, when some of these
issues might have been raised and resolved. The last few years of the
fourth century (pp. 394ff) offer at least hints of such conflict. The
censorship of Appius Claudius Caecus in 312 B.c. saw the control of a
major cult — that of Hercules at the Ara Maxima — transferred from the
gens Potitia to the state; this is the only trace of the removal of gentile
control of a cult, but it may not have been so isolated as it now seems.!69
The same period is said to have seen two separate conflicts between
Appius’ freedman Cn. Flavius and the college of pontifices over the
publication of some of their secrets and also over the correct procedure
for the dedication of temples.'7° In 300 B.c., the plebeians gained access
to the two major colleges under the Lex Ogulnia; finally it was probably
in the early decades of the third century that the very important but
unreported reform was carried which transferred the choice of the
pontifex maximus from the members of the college to a specially devised
form of popular election.'7! There seems to be enough here to make it
quite certain that major religious issues were under debate. It is not so
easy to see the trend of events or their significance. One element is the
attack on the patrician monopoly; another is the limitation of the power
and independence of the priestly colleges; a third is the centralization of
religious control in the state institutions. This may all help to explain the
succession of authoritative priestly figures, several of them plebeians,
which characterizes the third and second centuries. If there is any
substance in the speculation that early priests might have been more
isolated from public life, this will be the point where the priest-politician
emerged as a characteristic figure.!72

168 Momigliano 1967[H61], 305; Versnel in Stibbe et al. 1980[B263], 117ff.

199 Livy 1x.29.9. For the cult: Bayet 1926[G348]; Latte 1960[G435], 213A. Fora different view of
the events of 312: Palmer 1965{G46o], 294ff. 170 Livy 1x.46.

11 Livy xxv.5.2~3 (212 B.C.) gives us the first explicit mention of comitia for the election of the
pontifex maximus, but there is no reason to regard this as the first such election.

172 Cf. above, p. 588f. The first influential pontifex maximus known to us is Ti. Coruncanius
(Miinzer and Jérs 1901{G4 52], 1663ff), the first plebeian to hold the office (Livy, Epif. xviit),
probably by the 250s. It seems likely, but not certain, that election had been introduced earlier than
this.

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INNOVATION AND CHANGE 623

If this approach is right, then in or around the late fourth century, the
religious consequences of social conflict, like those of religious inno-
vation or of simple neglect, were absorbed within the flexible, always
changing boundaries of the system. None of these processes needs to be
perceived as anything other than the normal processes of a living set of
human’ institutions. Nothing seems to be illuminated at this date by
talking in terms of decline, decay, deterioration or dissolution. One
isolated story is sometimes quoted to illustrate the rise of scepticism in
the elite as the result of contact with the Greeks: that is the famous
incident of 249 B.c. when the naval commander — another Claudius —
found that his wish to join battle was impeded by the bad omen of the
sacred chickens refusing to eat; he threw them in the sea, remarking: ‘If
they will not eat, let them drink’.!73 The point of the story, it need hardly
be said, is that he lost the battle; this is a category of anecdote confirma-
tory of the system, if not essential to it. We do know, from the occasional
Plautine reference, that at least a superficial awareness of the views of
Stoics and Epicureans had reached Rome by the end of the third
century;!74 but there is no reason to think that any serious opposition was
felt between Greek academic theories and traditional Roman forms of
action before Cicero’s time at the earliest. It takes time for the implica-
tions of new and unfamiliar modes of thought to disturb assumptions
built into a whole social and symbolic system.

It is not quite enough, however, to say that we have plenty of evidence
of change within the system, but none of deep change which might
threaten the system. The religious life of the Republic as described in
earlier sections of this chapter did undergo a process of transformation,
so that Cicero and Augustus lived in a very different religious environ-
ment from Appius Claudius Caecus. One side of the transformation was
the retreat of the sacred from areas in which it had once had its part to
play. The other and more positive side was the emergence of new
religious forces and forms of organization, most importantly, the emer-
gence of specifically religious groups and hence specifically religious
choices for the individual of the kind which, we have seen,!75 had not
existed at all in early Rome. It is important not to confuse the transform-
ation of the religious system of the middle Republic with the deteriora-
tion of Roman religion as such. The age in which Cicero lived was in
many ways an innovative and vigorous period in religious history; it was
witnessing changes in progress which were to produce an entirely new
relationship between religion and society; the effects of this were eventu-

13 Cic. Nat. D. 11.7; above, p. 562.

'™4 There are, for instance, quite frequent references in Plautus to Stoic or Epicurean attitudes to
the gods: e.g. Merc. 4~7; Epid. 610-11; Capt. 313-15; Rud. 9-30; Cas. 346-9; Au. 88.

175 Above, p. 598f.

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624 Iz. RELIGION IN REPUBLICAN ROME

ally to be subsumed into the triumph of Christianity, but it is clear
enough that developments within pagan life to some extent anticipated
and facilitated the process. The first unmistakable sign of the beginning
of a new age in religious history, comes to us almost by accident when the
senate decided to destroy the worship of Bacchus through the whole of
Italy in the 180s B.c.'76 A movement so alien in its organization to the
native tradition cannot have established itself through so many areas of
Italy suddenly; there must have been many years of earlier development.
That this is so is confirmed both by the occasional reference to the cult in
Plautus’ plays from the end of the third century onwards and also by
archaeological evidence of its presence.!”” The second half of the third
century emerges as the period when, though there is scarcely a hint from
our historical sources, profound changes of religious attitude must have
been under way in much of Italy.

6 Livy xxxrx.8ff; ILLRP 511. 17 North 1979[G456], 87ff.

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APPENDIX

A. DRUMMOND

I. EARLY ROMAN CHRONOLOGY

The so-called Varronian system of chronology used in this volume
effectively placed the foundation of Rome in 753 B.c., the first consuls in
509 and the Gallic Sack of Rome in 390, and was largely followed by the
Capitoline Fasti (p. 347). It was, however, a creation of the mid-first
century B.c. (perhaps of Atticus rather than Varro) and incorporated the
dictator—years, which appear to be a late invention (p. 348);! it is not,
therefore, representative of the chronologies employed by the Roman
historians, to whom the dictator—years were foreign. Those chronologies,
however, are imperfectly known since few relevant data are preserved
from the lost early chroniclers of Rome and not all the surviving
authorities are systematic, accurate or even internally consistent in their
chronologies. Thus Livy (probably following the pattern of his Latin
predecessors) is generally content to chart the passage of the years merely
by recording the successive consular colleges and only occasionally
employs dates ‘from the foundation of the city’ (ab urbe condita). As a
result, it is very doubtful whether he worked with a clearly defined
overall chronological system, particularly since his own narrative omits
certain consular years (490-489 and 376 on the Varronian scheme)?
which his dates ‘from the foundation of the city’ seem to include and
some of these latter dates themselves appear to be mutually incompatible.
The most satisfactory explanation of these last inconsistencies is that
Livy’s dates ‘from the foundation of the city’ derive from two different
schemes (presumably to be found ultimately in different sources), which
placed the foundation of Rome in 751 or 750 respectively, the establish-
ment of the Republic in 507 or 506 and the Gallic Sack in 386; but even
this remains hypothetical. In Diodorus the confusion is still more acute,
despite his correlation of consular colleges with Greek olympiads and

1 In partial compensation the ‘Varronian’ chronology probably allowed only two years for the
Decemvirates (451-450) in contrast to the three years of other chronologies.

2 The single college which he gives in place of those of 507-6 (1.15.1) may be presupposed in the
dates ‘from the foundation of the city’ in 11.33.1 and tv.7.1.

625

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626 APPENDIX

Athenian archons. For although he appears to accept the Greek synchro-
nism which located the Gallic Sack in ol. 98.2 (387/6 B.c.),> his list of
consuls has been so blatantly manipulated to fit it* and is otherwise so
replete with manifest error> that his synchronization of Greek and
Roman dates (and therefore the modern translation of the latter into B.c.
terms) remains worthless. Of the extant historians only Dionysius has
serious claims to have attempted a coherent chronology of the Republic
and to have correlated it fully with Greek dates (a topic on which he
wrote in a separate work now lost (Ant. Rom. 1.74.2)). He places the
foundation of the city in ol. 7.1 (75 2/1 B.c.), the first consuls in ol. 68.2
(508/7 B.c.) and the Gallic Sack in ol. 98.1 (388/7 B.c.).© A century earlier
Polybius gave the same date for the Republic and dates only one year later
for the foundation and the Gallic Sack.’ This broad consistency with the
chronological schemes known for Dionysius and conjectured in Livy,
together with the general agreement between the surviving consular lists
(p. 18f),8 may indicate that a comparatively uniform republican chro-
nology was employed by, or implicit in, the Roman historical tradition
from the mid-second century; the few foundation dates which we have
from other works of this period® support that hypothesis. The earliest
historians, however, gave discrepant and diverse foundation dates:
Timaeus 814/13 B.c., Fabius Pictor ol. 8.1 (748/7), Cincius Alimentus ol.
12.4 (729/8).!° This has prompted suggestions that one or more of these
authors had radically different consular lists from those found later and

3 Such olympiad dates are usually correlated with the Roman consuls who enter office in the
course of the olympiad year concemed. The variation in the dates of entry into office in the early
Republic (p. 174 n. 7) makes such a uniform correlation still more artificial.

4 Through the wholesale repetition of the colleges of 394-390 (Perl 1957{Dz5], 113f).

5 Notably his complete omission of the colleges of 423-419. The only major distinctive variants
in Diodorus worth consideration are the additional colleges apparently or certainly included after
those of 458, 457 and 428 and the alternative college under 3 49; but even these are of dubious merit.
See Perl 195 7[Dz25]. ;

6 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.74.4-75-3; V-1.1. There are, however, some difficulties in explaining
Dionysius’ distinctive date for the Gallic Sack (Ant. Rom. 1.74.4) and the chronological data in Ant.
Rom. 1.3.4 and (especially) 1.8.1. For discussion and bibliography see Werner 1963[A134], 13.4ff.

7 Cf. Polyb. ut.22.2; vi.r1a.2; .6.1f with Walbank 195 7—79[B182] ad loc.

8 Including that of Diodorus when purged of its grosser errors (Perl 1937[D25], esp. 106-22).

® According to Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. t.74.2f Cato’s location of the foundation of Rome 432 years
later than the fall of Troy implied a date of ol. 7.1 (752/1 B.c.) on Eratosthenes’ chronology (some
believe that Dionysius has misrepresented Cato, whose figure in fact implied ol. 7.2: see Werner
1963[A134], 113-19). ol. 7.2 recurs in Cic. Rep. 11.18 (from Polybius?), in Diod. fr. vit.5.1 and
reputedly in Lutatius Catulus and Cornelius Nepos (Solinus 1.27). Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.74.3 may
imply that the data of ‘rod mapa trois dpytepetat Keyevou mivaxos’ (presumably the pontifical
whiteboard itself or a transcription) could be, or had been, used to achieve a similar date.

It is possible that other second-century historians had slightly different chronologies (cf. esp.
Cassius Hemina fr. 20P; Piso fr. 36P (cf. also 26P); Gellius fr. 25 and 27P) but the accuracy and/or
implications of the relevance fragments are controversial.

10 Naevius and Ennius apparently dated the foundation of Rome soon after the Trojan war (p. 82)
but the details of their overall chronology (if they had one) elude us.

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THE CONSULAR FASTI 627

hence gave an earlier or later date for the establishment of the city,'! but
more probably the variation is to be explained by differences in the
length assigned to the monarchy: Fabius Pictor’s chronology for the
early fourth century, for example, may already have conformed broadly
to that current later!2 and have included, inter alia, the spurious anarchy
(375-371 B.c.). As that fiction demonstrates, however, the consular lists
available to Roman historians proved an inadequate basis for synchroni-
zation with external data, which thereby showed them to be
chronologically defective (p. 349). Whilst, therefore, it remains regretta-
ble that modern convention employs the still less satisfactory Varronian
chronological system (and its corresponding B.c. correlation), the adop-
tion of another scheme (e.g. that of Dionysius) would bring only a
limited improvement: for all ancient reconstructions of early republican
chronology suffered from inherent weaknesses now beyond total
remedy. !3

Il. THE CONSULAR FASTI: 509-220 B.C.

The following list derives from a variety of literary and epigraphic texts,
most of which do not usually give the magistrate’s full name; as a result,
many entries are an amalgam of material from different sources.'4 Whilst
some attempt has been made to signal individual uncertainties,!5 only the
most significant or credible variants have been included, without discus-

" Cf. Pinsent 1975[D26], 2-3 etc. Timaeus’ date may depend primarily on his desire to achieve a
symbolic synchronization of the foundation of Rome and Carthage (p. 82).

12 If Aulus Gellius, N.A v.4.3 derives from a Latin version of his work and ‘duovicesimo’ means
‘twenty-second’, For the passage and its implications cf. Werner 1963[A134], 119-29; above, p. 348.

'3 Pliny, HN xxxu. 1g reports that in the inscription on his temple of Concord Cn. Flavius dated
the shrine’s dedication 204(?) years after the dedication of the Capitoline temple. Since Flavius
performed the dedication as curule aedile in 303 B.c. on pre-Varronian chronologies (304 B.c. on
Varro’s), this would imply that already at the end of the fourth century the consecration of the
Capitoline temple was assigned its Polybian date of 507 B.C. and, as a result, it would be of great
significance (not least for the history of the consular fasts) if we could determine the basis of Flavius’
calculation. Since it was later believed that the Capitoline temple was dedicated in the first year of the
Republic, it might be suggested that Flavius had access to, and employed, a consular list, which will
then already have resembled closely those current later. Otherwise it is supposed that he was able to
compute the dedication date of the Capitoline temple independently of the fasti(perhaps by counting
the annual nails (p. 187)); in that case his calculation itself or the chronological evidence on which it
was based may have been used as a check on, or even the basis of, the later consular lists and their
implied date for the start of the Republic. However, given our ignorance of the means by which
Flavius reached his alleged figure all such theories are necessarily speculative (and are open to
challenge on other counts); indeed, the import of Flavius’ own alleged figure is controversial. Rather
than acting as a chronological lynch-pin it may itself have been used to date Flavius’ aedileship (or
even the dedication of the Capitoline temple) in conformity with later pre- Varronian chronologies
or Pliny may have misunderstood his source and have attributed to Flavius a calculation which was
in fact the work of that source. 4 Degrassi 1947{D7], 346; MRR 1.

'S The use of the question mark does not, however, necessarily imply serious doubt and even
where variants are cited there are usually sound reasons for preferring one of the alternatives given.

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628 APPENDIX

sion. Beyond the issue of the overall reliability of the list (pp. 173ff),
especial doubt attaches to the cognomina attributed to fifth- and fourth-
century consuls: cognomina themselves may have been included in records
of consulships relatively late and multiple cognomina before the later
fourth century may reflect a combination of two different
reconstructions.!6

Roman numerals after a name denote repeated tenure of the consul-
ship or consular tribunate (in keeping with the practice of ancient
sources, repeated consulships and repeated consular tribunates of the
same individual are numbered separately). Material in brackets repre-
sents modern additions. So far as possible the order of names within each
year is that of Livy (or, where his text fails, of authors generally
dependent on Livy), but this has no special authority.1”

so9 L. Iunius Brutus

suf.: Sp. Lucretius Tricipitinus
(omitted by some early
authorities: Livy 11.8.5)
M. Horatius Pulvillus
(Polybius 111.22.1 gives Brutus and Horatius as the first
consuls)

L. Tarquinius Collatinus
suf.: P. Valerius Poplicola

508 P. Valerius Poplicola II T. Lucretius Tricipitinus

507. P. Valerius Poplicola III M. Horatius Pulvillus II

506 Sp. Larcius Rufus (Flavus?) T. Herminius Aquilinus
(In place of the colleges of 507/6 Livy 1.15.1 gives one pair of
consuls: P.(?) Lucretius and P. Valerius Poplicola (III))

sos M. Valerius Volusus(?) P. Postumius Tubertus

304 P. Valerius Poplicola IV T. Lucretius Tricipitinus II

503 Agrippa Menenius Lanatus P. Postumius Tubertus II

soz Opiter Verginius Tricostus Sp. Cassius Vicellinus

so1 Postumus Cominius Auruncus T. Larcius Flavus Rufus

soo Ser. Sulpicius Camerinus M’. Tullius Longus

Cornutus
499 T. Aebutius Helva Flavus(?) C. or P. Veturius Geminus
Cicurinus

498 Q. Cloelius Siculus T. Larcius Flavus Rufus II

497 A. Sempronius Atratinus M. Minucius Augurinus

496 A. Postumius Albus T. Verginius Tricostus

Regillensis

Caeliomontanus

'6 Cichorius 1886{D4], 177ff; 219ff.

17 Whilst the spelling of family names has been standardized, the diversity of form and/or spelling
of certain cognomina in different sources has been deliberately allowed to stand. Only where the same
individual appears more than once has uniformity been consciously pursued.

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495
494
493
492
491
490
489
488
487
486
485
484
483

482
481

480
479

478

477
476

475
474
473

472
471

47°

THE CONSULAR FASTI

Ap. Claudius Sabinus
Inregillensis

A. Verginius Tricostus
Caeliomontanus

Sp. Cassius Vicellinus II

T. Geganius Macerinus

M. Minucius Augurinus II

Q. Sulpicius Camerinus
Cornutus

C. Tulius Tullus

Sp. Nautius Rutilus

T. Sicinius (Dion. Hal. and
Cassiodorus) or T. Siccius
Sabinus(?)

Sp. Cassius Vicellinus III

Ser. Cornelius Maluginensis
L. Aemilius Mamercus
M. Fabius Vibulanus

Q. Fabius Vibulanus II
K. Fabius Vibulanus II

M. Fabius Vibulanus II
K. Fabius Vibulanus III

L. Aemilius Mamercus II

629
P. Servilius Priscus Structus

T. Veturius Geminus
Cicurinus

Postumus Cominius
Auruncus II

P. Minucius Augurinus

A. Sempronius Atratinus II

Sp. Larcius Flavus
(or Rufus?) II

P. Pinarius Rufus Mamertinus

Sex. Furius

C. Aquillius Tuscus(?)

Proculus Verginius Tricostus
Rutilus

Q. Fabius Vibulanus

K. Fabius Vibulanus

L. Valerius Potitus Volusus
Poplicola

C. lulius Iullus

Sp. Furius (Medullinus?)
Fusus

Cn. Manlius Cincinnatus(?)

T. Verginius Tricostus
Rutilus

C. Servilius Structus or
(Diod.) C. Cornelius
Lentulus

suf.: {Opet. Verginius?

C.(?) Horatius Pulvillus

A. Verginius Tricostus
Rutilus

C. Nautius Rutilus

L. Furius Medullinus

L. Aemilius Mamercus III

L. Pinarius Mamercinus Rufus

Ap. Claudius (Crassus?)
Inregillensis Sabinus

L. Valerius Potitus Volusus
Poplicola II

E}squilinus
T. Menenius Lanatus
Sp.(?) Servilius Structus

P. Valerius Poplicola

A.(?) Manlius Vulso

Vopiscus(?) Iulius Iullus or
Opet. Verginius

P. Furius (Medullinus?) Fusus

T. Quinctius Capitolinus
Barbatus

Ti.(?) Aemilius Mamercus

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469
468

467
466

465
464

463
462

461
460
459

458

APPENDIX

T. Numicius Priscus

T. Quinctius Capitolinus
Barbatus II

Ti.(?) Aemilius Mamercus II

Q. Servilius (Structus)
Priscus II

Q. Fabius Vibulanus II

A. Postumius Albus
Regillensis

L. Aebutius Flavus Helva

L. Lucretius Tricipitinus

P. Volumnius Amintinus
Gallus

C. Claudius Inregillensis
Sabinus

Q. Fabius Vibulanus III

[estecesss ] Carve[......]
(Capitoline Fasti)

(s#f.:) L. Minucius Esquilinus

457

456

455
454

453

452

Augurinus

Suf.:

A. Verginius Caeliomontanus
Q. Servilius Structus Priscus

Q. Fabius Vibulanus

Sp. Postumius Albus
Regillensis

T. Quinctius Capitolinus
(Barbatus) III

Sp. Furius Medullinus Fusus

P. Servilius Structus Priscus

T. Veturius Geminus
Cicurinus

Ser. Sulpicius Camerinus
Cornutus

P. Valerius Poplicola II

L. Quinctius Cincinnatus

L. Cornelius Maluginensis
Uritinus

C.(?) Nautius Rutilus II

(After these consuls Diodorus may have included an additional

college.)

Q. Minucius Esquilinus
Augurinus(?) or (Diodorus)
L. Postumius

C.(?) Horatius Pulvillus II(?)

(After these consuls Diodorus inserts an additional college:
L. Quinctius Cincinnatus and M. Fabius Vibulanus)

M. Valerius Maximus Lactuca

T. Romilius Rocus Vaticanus

Sp. Tarpeius Montanus
Capitolinus

P. Curiatius Fistus Trigeminus
or (Dion. Hal.)
P. Horatius

T.@) Menenius Lanatus

Sufi:

Sp. Verginius Tricostus
Caeliomontanus

C. Veturius Cicurinus

A. Aternius Varus Fontinalis

Sex. Quinctilius (Varus?)

Sp. Furius (Medullinus
Fusus II?) (only in Dion.
Hal.)

P. Sestius Capito Vaticanus or
(Dion. Hal.) P. Siccius

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4st

450

449
448

447
446

445

444

443

442

THE CONSULAR FASTI 631

First Decemvirate:

Ap. Claudius Crassus Inrigillensis Sabinus II consuls or
T. Genucius Augurinus or (Diod.) consuls
T. Minucius elect

P. Sestius (Capito Vaticanus)
Sp.(?) Veturius Crassus Cicurinus
C. Iulius Iullus
A. Manlius Vulso
Ser.(?) Sulpicius Camerinus (Cornutus?)
P. Curiatius (Fistus Trigeminus) or (Dion. Hal.) P. Horatius
T. Romilius (Rocus Vaticanus)
Sp. Postumius Albus (Regillensis)
Second Decemvirate:
Ap. Claudius Crassus Inrigillensis Sabinus
M. Cornelius Maluginensis
M.(?) Sergius Esquilinus
L. Minucius Esquilinus Augurinus
Q. Fabius Vibulanus
Q. Poetelius
T. Antonius Merenda
K. Duillius
Sp. Oppius Cornicen
M’. Rabuleius
L. Valerius Poplicola Potitus M. Horatius [....Jrrin.

Barbatus
Lars(?) Herminius T. Verginius Tricostus
Coritinesanus Caeliomontanus
M. Geganius Macerinus C.(?) Tulius
T. Quinctius Capitolinus Agrippa Furius Fusus
Barbatus IV
M. Genucius Augurinus C.(?) Curtius Chilo or (Livy)

P. CurCi>atius
A. Sempronius Atratinus
L. Atilius Luscus
T. Cloelius Siculus

Suffect consuls (in the Linen Books and Ardeate treaty):

L. Papirius Mugillanus L. Sempronius Atratinus

M. Geganius Macerinus II T. Quinctius Capitolinus
Barbatus V

M. Fabius Vibulanus Post. Aebutius Helva
Cornicen

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632 APPENDIX

441 C.(?) Furius Pacilus Fusus M’.(?) Papirius Crassus
440 Proculus Geganius Macerinus TT. Menenius Lanatus II or
(Livy) L. Menenius Lanatus
439 T. Quinctius Capitolinus Agrippa Menenius Lanatus
(Barbatus) VI
438 L. Quinctius Cincinnatus (cos. 428/7?)
Mam. Aemilius Mamercus
L. or C. Iulius Iullus (cos. 430?)
437 M. Geganius Macerinus III L. Sergius Fidenas
suf.(2):[M. Valerius Lactuca
Maxi]mus (Degrassi 1947

[D7], 538)

436 M.(?) Cornelius L. Papirius Crassus
Maluginensis

435 C. Tulius II(?) L.(?) Verginius Tricostus

434 Either (a) M. Manlius Capitolinus
Q. Sulpicius Camerinus Praetextatus
Ser. Cornelius Cossus
(So the early writers: Livy 1v.23.2)
or (b) C. Iulius ITI(?) L(?) Verginius (Tricostus) II
(So the Linen Books according to Licinius Macer)
or (c) M. Manlius (Capitolinus?) Q. Sulpicius (Camerinus
Praetextatus?)
(So Valerius Antias and the Linen Books
according to Q. Aelius Tubero)
433 M. Fabius Vibulanus (cos. 442)
M. Folius Flaccinator
L. Sergius Fidenas (cos. 437, 429)
43z L. Pinarius Mamercinus
L. Furius Medullinus
Sp. Postumius Albus

431 T. Quinctius Poenus C.(?) Iulius Mento
Cincinnatus
430 L.(?) Papirius Crassus (II?) L.¢?) Iulius Iullus
429 _ L. Sergius Fidenas II Hostus(?) Lucretius
Tricipitinus
428 <A. Cornelius Cossus T. Quinctius Poenus

Cincinnatus II
(After these consuls Diodorus inserts an additional college:
L. Quinctius (Cincinnatus II?) and A. Sempronius (Atratinus?).)
427. C. Servilius Structus or (?) L. Papirius Mugillanus
Ahala

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425

424

423

422

420

419

418

417

416

4l5

THE CONSULAR FASTI 633

T. Quinctius Poenus (Cincinnatus) (cos. 431, 428)

C. Furius (Pacilus) Fusus (cos. 441?)

M. Postumius

A. Cornelius Cossus (cos. 428)

A. Sempronius Atratinus (cos. 428/7?)

L. Quinctius Cincinnatus (II) (cos. 428/72?)

L. Furius Medullinus (II)

L. Horatius Barbatus

Ap.(?) Claudius Crassus

Sp. Nautius Rutilus

L. Sergius Fidenas (II) (cos. 437, 429)

Sex. Iulius Iullus

C. Sempronius Atratinus Q. Fabius Vibulanus

L. Manlius Capitolinus

Q. Antonius Merenda

L. Papirius Mugillanus (cos. 427)

N.(?) Fabius Vibulanus T. Quinctius Capitolinus

Barbatus

L. Quinctius Cincinnatus III (cos. 428/7?) or (T. Quinctius
Poenus) Cincinnatus II (cos. 431, 428)

L. Furius Medullinus ITI

M. Manlius Vulso

A. Sempronius Atratinus (II) (cos. 428/7?)

Agrippa Menenius Lanatus (cos. 439)

P. Lucretius Tricipitinus

Sp. Nautius Rutilus

C. Servilius (Structus or (?) Axilla) (cos. 427) (Capitoline Fasti
only)

L. Sergius Fidenas III (cos. 437, 429)

M. Papirius Mugillanus (cos. 411)

C. Servilius Structus or (?) Axilla II (cos. 427°?) or
(Livy) C. Servilius

Agrippa Menenius Lanatus II (cos. 439)

C. Servilius Structus or (?) Axilla III (cos. 427?) or L.(?)
Servilius Structus II (Livy)

P. Lucretius Tricipitinus II

Sp. Veturius (Crassus) or (Livy) Sp. Rutilius Crassus

A. Sempronius Atratinus III (cos. 428/7?)

M. Papirius Mugillanus II

Sp. Nautius Rutilus II

Q. Fabius (Vibulanus) (cos. 423)

P. Cornelius Cossus

C. Valerius Potitus (Volusus)

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414

413
4l2

4ll
410

409

408

407

406

405

404

403

APPENDIX

Q. Quinctius Cincinnatus

(N.?) Fabius Vibulanus (cos. 421?)
Cn.(?) Cornelius Cossus (cos. 409)
L.(?) Valerius Potitus (cos. 393(?), 392)
Q.(?) Fabius Vibulanus II(?) (cos. 423?)
P.(?) Postumius (Albinus) Regillensis

A.(?) Cornelius Cossus L. Furius Medullinus

Q. Fabius Ambustus C. Furius Pacilus
Vibulanus

M. Papirius Mugillanus Sp.(?) Nautius Rutilus

M’. (?) Aemilius Mamercinus __C. Valerius Potitus Volusus

Cn. Cornelius Cossus L. Furius Medullinus II

C. Tulius Tullus

P. Cornelius Cossus

C. Servilius Ahala

L. Furius Medullinus (cos. 413, 409)

C. Valerius Potitus Volusus II (cos. 410)
N.(?) Fabius Vibulanus II (cos. 421?)

C. Servilius Ahala II

P. Cornelius Rutilus Cossus

Cn. Cornelius Cossus

N.(?) Fabius Ambustus

L. Valerius Potitus II(?) (cos. 393(?), 392)
T. Quinctius Capitolinus Barbatus (cos. 421)
Q. Quinctius Cincinnatus II

C. Iulius Iullus II

A. Manlius Vulso Capitolinus

L. Furius Medullinus II (cos. 413, 409)
M’. (?) Aemilius Mamercinus (cos. 410)
C. Valerius Potitus Volusus

M’. Sergius Fidenas

P. Cornelius Maluginensis

Cn. Cornelius Cossus II

K.(?) Fabius Ambustus

Sp. Nautius Rutilus III (cos. 411?)

M’.(?) Aemilius Mamercinus II (cos. 410)
L. Valerius Potitus III(?) (cos. 393(?), 392)
Ap. Claudius Crassus (cos. 349?)

M. Quinctilius Varus

L. Iulius Jullus

M. Furius Fusus or (Livy) M. Postumius
(Livy erroneously adds the censors of 403: M. Furius Camillus
and M. Postumius Albinus)

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4ol

400

399

398

397

396

THE CONSULAR FASTI 635

C. Servilius Ahala III

Q. Servilius Fidenas

L. Verginius Tricostus Esquilinus

Q. Sulpicius Camerinus Cornutus

A. Manlius Vulso Capitolinus II

M’. Sergius Fidenas II

L. Valerius Potitus IV (cos. 393(?), 392)
M. Furius Camillus

M’.(?) Aemilius Mamercinus III (cos. 410)
Cn. Cornelius Cossus III

K.(?) Fabius Ambustus II(?)

L. lulius Tullus

P. Licinius Calvus Esquilinus

P. Manlius Vulso

(L.?) Titinius Pansa Saccus

P. Maelius Capitolinus

Sp.(?) Furius Medullinus

L. Publilius Philo Vulscus

M. Veturius Crassus Cicurinus

M. Pomponius Rufus

C.(?) Duillius Longus

Voler. Publilius Philo

Cn. Genucius Augurinus

L. Atilius Priscus

L. Valerius Potitus V (cos. 393(?), 392)
(M.) Valerius Lactucinus Maximus

M. Furius Camillus II

L. Furius Medullinus III (cos. 413, 409)
Q. Servilius Fidenas IT

Q. Sulpicius Camerinus (Cornutus) II
L. Iulius TIullus I

(L.) Furius Medullinus IV (cos. 413, 409)
L. Sergius Fidenas

A. Postumius (Albinus) Regillensis

P. Cornelius Maluginensis (cos. 393?)
A.(?) Manlius (Vulso Capitolinus ITI(?))
L. Titinius Pansa Saccus II

P. Maelius Capitolinus I

Cn. Genucius (Augurinus) II

L. Atilius (Priscus) II

P. Licinius Calvus Esquilinus II(?)

Q. Manlius Vulso

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395.

394

393

392

391

39°

389

388

APPENDIX

P. Cornelius Cossus

P. Cornelius Scipio

M. Valerius (Lactucinus) Maximus II

K. Fabius Ambustus III(?)

L. Furius Medullinus V (cos. 413, 409)

Q. Servilius (Fidenas) III

M. Furius Camillus ITI

L. Furius Medullinus VI (cos. 413, 409)

C. Aemilius (Mamercinus)

L. Valerius Publicola

Sp. Postumius

P. Cornelius (Maluginensis or Cossus or Scipio) II

[L. Valerius] Potitus [P. or Ser.? Cornel]ius
Maluginensis

(Both in the Capitoline Fasti only; they may not have entered

office)

suf.: L. Lucretius Flavus (Tricipitinus) Ser. Sulpicius Camerinus

L. Valerius Potitus II M.(?) Manlius Capitolinus

L. Lucretius (Flavus) Tricipitinus (cos. 393)

Ser. Sulpicius (Camerinus) (cos. 393)

L. or M. Aemilius Mamercinus

L. Furius Medullinus VI (cos. 413, 409)

Agrippa Furius

C. Aemilius (Mamercinus) II

Q. Fabius Ambustus (II?)

K.(?) Fabius (Ambustus) (IV?)

N.(?) Fabius (Ambustus) (IT)

Q. Sulpicius Longus

Q. Servilius (Fidenas) IV

P. Cornelius Maluginensis (II) (cos. 393(?))

(L.) Valerius Publicola IT

L. Verginius Tricostus (Esquilinus IT?)

P. Cornelius

A. Manlius (Capitolinus)

L. Aemilius (Mamercinus) (II?)

L. Postumius Albinus (Regillensis)

L. Papirius (Diod. only)

M. Furius (Diod. only)

T. Quinctius Cincinnatus Capitolinus

Q. Servilius Fidenas V

L. Iulius Iullus

L.Aquillius Corvus

L. Lucretius (Flavus) Tricipitinus (II) (cos. 393)

(Ser.) Sulpicius Rufus

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386

385

384

383

382

381

THE CONSULAR FASTI 637

L. Papirius Cursor

Cn. Sergius (Fidenas Coxo)

L. Aemilius (Mamercinus III)

Licinus Menenius Lanatus

L. Valerius Publicola III

L. Quinctius (Diod. only)

L. Cornelius (Diod. only)

A. Manlius (Capitolinus II?) (Diodorus only)
M. Furius Camillus (IV)

Ser.(?) Cornelius Maluginensis

Q. Servilius Fidenas VI

L. Quinctius Cincinnatus (Capitolinus) (II?)
L. Horatius Pulvillus

P. Valerius (Potitus Poplicola)

A. Manlius Capitolinus II (or III)

P. Cornelius II

T. Quinctius (Cincinnatus) Capitolinus II
L. Quinctius Cincinnatus(?) Capitolinus II (or III?)
L. Papirius Cursor II

(Cn. Sergius Fidenas Coxo II?)

Ser. Cornelius Maluginensis II(?)

P. Valerius Potitus (Poplicola) II

M. Furius Camillus V

Ser. Sulpicius Rufus II

C.(?) Papirius Crassus

T. Quinctius Cincinnatus (Capitolinus) II
L. Valerius Publicola IV

A. Manlius (Capitolinus) III (or IV)

Ser. Sulpicius (Rufus) III

L. Lucretius Flavus (Tricipitinus) III (cos. 393)
L. Aemilius (Mamercinus IV?)

M. Trebonius

Sp. Papirius Crassus

L. Papirius (Mugillanus?)

Ser. Cornelius Maluginensis III(?)

Q. Servilius Fidenas

C. Sulpicius

L. Aemilius (Mamercinus V(?))

M. Furius Camillus VI

A. Postumius Regillensis

L. Postumius (Albinus) Regillensis (II)

L. Furius (Medullinus)

L. Lucretius (Flavus) Tricipitinus (IV) (cos. 393)
M. Fabius Ambustus

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380

379

378

377

376

APPENDIX

L. Valerius Publicola V

P. Valerius Potitus Poplicola III

Cn. Sergius Fidenas Coxo III

Licinus Menenius Lanatus IT

Ti. Papirius Crassus

Ser. Cornelius Maluginensis IV(?)

L. Papirius Mugillanus II

C. Sulpicius Peticus (cos. 364, 361, 355, 353, 351)
L. Aemilius Mamercinus VI(?)

P. Manlius Capitolinus

C., P. or Cn. Manlius

L. Iulius (Iullus IT)

C. Sextilius

M.(?) Albinius

L. Antistius

C. Erenucius (= Genucius?) (Diod. only)
P. Trebonius (Diod. only)

Sp.(?) Furius

Q. Servilius Fidenas IT

Licinus Menenius (Lanatus) III or (Diod.) C. Licinius
P. Cloelius Siculus

M. Horatius

L. Geganius

L. Aemilius Mamercinus (cos. 366, 363?)
P.(?) Valerius (Potitus Poplicola) IV

C. Veturius (Crassus Cicurinus?)

Ser. Sulpicius Rufus (IV) or Ser. Sulpicius (Praetextatus)
L. Quinctius Cincinnatus III (or IV?)

C. Quinctius Cincinnatus

L. Papirius (Mugillanus (III?))

(Licinus) Menenius Lanatus 1V(?)

Ser. Cornelius (Maluginensis V(?))

Ser. Sulpicius Praetextatus (II(?))

375-371 ‘Anarchy’ (assigned a duration of one year in Diodorus)

379

369

L. Furius Medullinus (II)

A. Manlius (Capitolinus IV (or V))
Ser. Sulpicius Praetextatus III(?)
Ser. Cornelius Maluginensis V1(?)
(P.) Valerius Potitus Poplicola V(?)
C. Valerius

Q. Servilius Fidenas III]

C. Veturius (Crassus Cicur)inus II
A. Cornelius Cossus

M. Cornelius Maluginensis

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

368

367

366
365
364

363
362
361

360
359

358
357

356

355
354

353
352
351
35°

349

THE CONSULAR FASTI 639

Q. Quinctius

M. Fabius Ambustus II

T. Quinctius (Cincinnatus?) Capitolinus
Ser. Cornelius Maluginensis VII(?)
Ser. Sulpicius Praetextatus IV(?)
Sp. Servilius Structus

L. Papirius Crassus

L. Veturius Crassus Cicurinus

A. Cornelius Cossus II

M. Cornelius Maluginensis II

M. Geganius Macerinus

P. Manlius Capitolinus II

L. Veturius Crassus Cicurinus II

P. Valerius Potitus Poplicola VI(?)

L. Sextius Sextinus Lateranus L. Aemilius Mamercinus
L. Genucius Aventinensis Q. Servilius Ahala

C. Sulpicius Peticus C. Licinius Stolo or

C. Licinius Calvus
Cn.(?) Genucius Aventinensis L. Aemilius Mamercinus II

Q. Servilius Ahala II L. Genucius Aventinensis II
C. Sulpicius Peticus I] (C. Licinius) Stolo or
C. Licinius Calvus
C. Poetelius Libo Visolus M. Fabius Ambustus
M. Popillius Laenas Cn. Manlius Capitolinus
Imperiosus
C.(?) Fabius Ambustus C. Plautius Proculus
C. Marcius Rutilus Cn. Manlius Capitolinus
(Imperiosus II?)
M. Fabius Ambustus II M. Popillius Laenas II
C. Sulpicius Peticus III M. Valerius Publicola
M. Fabius Ambustus III T. Quinctius (Poenus)

Capitolinus or M. Popillius
(Laenas IIT)

C. Sulpicius Peticus IV M. Valerius Publicola II
P. Valerius Publicola C. Marcius Rutilus II
C. Sulpicius Peticus V T. Quinctius Poenus

(Capitolinus) II(?)
M. Popillius Laenas III (or L. Cornelius Scipio
IV)
L. Furius Camillus Ap. Claudius Crassus
Inrigillensis
(In place of these consuls Diodorus gives: M. Aemilius and
T. Quinctius (Poenus Capitolinus III?).)

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

640

348
347

346
345

344

343
342
341
340

339
338
337
336
335
334
(333
332
331

339
329

328

327
326

325
(324
323

322
321
320
319

318

APPENDIX

M. Valerius Corvus

T. Manlius Imperiosus
Torquatus

M. Valerius Corvus II

M. Fabius Dorsuo

M. Popillius Laenas IV (or V)
C. Plautius Venox

C. Poetelius Libo Visolus II
Ser. Sulpicius Camerinus
Rufus

(Diodorus puts this college before that of 348)

C. Marcius Rutilus III

M. Valerius Corvus III

C. Marcius Rutilus IV

C. Plautius Venox II

T. Manlius (Imperiosus)
Torquatus III

Ti.(?) Aemilius Mamercinus

L. Furius Camillus

C. Sulpicius Longus

L. Papirius Crassus

M. Valerius Corvus 1V

T. Veturius Calvinus

Dictator year)

A. Cornelius Cossus Arvina II

M. Claudius Marcellus

L. Papirius Crassus II(?)

L. Aemilius Mamercinus
Privernas II

P.(?) Plautius Proculus or
Decianus (or?) Venox

L. Cornelius Lentulus

C. Poetelius Libo (Visolus) III

L. Furius Camillus II
Dictator year)
C. Sulpicius Longus II

Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus
T. Veturius Calvinus II
Q. Publilius Philo III
L. Papirius Cursor III or

L. Papirius Mugillanus (II)
M. Folius Flaccinator

T. Manlius (Imperiosus)
Torquatus II

A. Cornelius Cossus Arvina

Q. Servilius Ahala III

L. Aemilius Mamercinus

P. Decius Mus

Q. Publilius Philo

C. Maenius

P. Aelius Paetus

K. Duillius

M. Atilius Regulus Calenus
Sp. Postumius Albinus

Cn. Domitius Calvinus

C.(?) Valerius Potitus or
Flaccus

L. Plautius Venox

C. Plautius Decianus

P. Cornelius Scapula or Scipio
Barbatus

Q. Publilius Philo II

L. Papirius Cursor or
Mugillanus

D. Iunius Brutus Scaeva

(Q. Aulius) Cerretanus or
(Diod.) C. Aelius or (Livy)
Q. Aemilius Cerretanus

L. Fulvius Curvus

Sp. Postumius Albinus IT

L. Papirius Cursor II(?)

Q. Aulius Cerretanus II or
(Diod.) Q. Aelius

L. Plautius Venox

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

317
316
315
314
313
312

311
310

(309
308

3°7

306

305

304
393
302

(301
300

299
298
297
296
295
294

293
292

THE CONSULAR FASTI

C. Iunius Bubulcus Brutus

Sp. Nautius Rutilus

L. Papirius Cursor IV(?)

M. Poetelius Libo

L. Papirius Cursor V

M. Valerius Maximus
(Corvinus?)

C. Iunius Bubulcus Brutus III

Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus
II

Dictator year)

Q. Fabius Maximus
Rullianus III

Ap. Claudius Caecus

P. Cornelius Arvina

641

Q. Aemilius Barbula

M. Popillius Laenas

Q. Publilius Philo IV

C. Sulpicius Longus III

C. Iunius Bubulcus Brutus II
P. Decius Mus

Q. Aemilius Barbula IT
C. Marcius Rutilus

P. Decius Mus II

L. Volumnius Flamma

Violens
Q. Marcius Tremulus

(The consular colleges of 307 and 306 were both omitted in
Calpurnius Piso’s history; the reason is not known.)

L. Postumius Megellus

suf:

P. Sulpicius Saverrio

L. Genucius Aventinensis
M. Livius Denter
Dictator year)

M. Valerius Corvus V(?)
M. Fulvius Paetinus

suf:

L. Cornelius Scipio Barbatus

Q. Fabius Maximus
Rullianus IV

L. Volumnius (Flamma)
Violens II

Q. Fabius Maximus
Rullianus V

L. Postumius Megellus II

L. Papirius Cursor

Q. Fabius Maximus Gurges

Ti.(?) Minucius
Augurinus

M. Fulvius Curvus
Paetinus (‘some
sources’: Livy
TX.44.15)

P. Sempronius Sophus
Ser. Cornelius Lentulus
M. Aemilius Paullus

Q. Appuleius Pansa

T. Manlius Torquatus

M. Valerius (Corvus)

VI(?)

Cn. Fulvius Maximus
Centumalus

P. Decius Mus III

Ap. Claudius Caecus I
P. Decius Mus IV
M. Atilius Regulus

Sp. Carvilius Maximus
D. Iunius Brutus Scaeva

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

642

291
290
289

288
287
286
285
284

283

282
281
280
279
278
277
276
275

273
272
271
270
269
268
267
266
265
264
263
262

261
260

259
258

APPENDIX

L. Postumius Megellus III

P. Cornelius Rufinus

M. Valerius Maximus
Corvinus II

Q. Marcius Tremulus II

M. (Claudius) Marcellus

M. Valerius Maximus Potitus

C. Claudius Canina

. Servilius Tucca

suf:

P. Cornelius Dolabella

C. Fabricius Luscinus

L. Aemilius Barbula

P. Valerius Laevinus

P. Sulpicius Saverrio

C. Fabricius Luscinus II

P. Cornelius Rufinus II

Q. Fabius Maximus Gurges II

M’. Curius Dentatus II (or
III)

Ser. Cornelius Merenda

C. Fabius Licinus Dorso

L. Papirius Cursor II

K. Quinctius Claudus

C. Genucius Clepsina II

Q. Ogulnius Gallus

P. Sempronius Sophus

M. Atilius Regulus

D. Iunius Pera

Q. Fabius Maximus (Gurges)

Ap. Claudius Caudex

M’.Valerius Maximus Messalla

L. Postumius Albinus
Megellus

L. Valerius Flaccus

Cn. Cornelius Scipio Asina

C. Aquillius Florus

A. Atilius Caiatinus or
Calatinus

C. Iunius Bubulcus Brutus
(M’.) Curius Dentatus
Q. Caedicius Noctua

P. Cornelius Arvina (II)

C. Nautius Rutilus

C. Aelius Paetus

M. Aemilius Lepidus

L. Caecilius Metellus

Denter

M’.Curius (Dentatus II)

(Polybius only)

Cn. Domitius Calvinus
Maximus

Q. Aemilius Papus

Q. Marcius Philippus

Ti. Coruncanius

P. Decius Mus

Q. Aemilius Papus II

C. Iunius Bubulcus Brutus II

C. Genucius Clepsina

L. Cornelius Lentulus
Caudinus

M’. Curius Dentatus III (or
IV)

C. Claudius Canina II

Sp. Carvilius Maximus II

L. Genucius Clepsina

Cn. Cornelius Blasio

C. Fabius Pictor

Ap. Claudius Russus

L. Iulius Libo

N. Fabius Pictor

L. Mamilius Vitulus

M. or Q. Fulvius Flaccus

M’. Otacilius Crassus

Q. Mamilius Vitulus

T. Otacilius Crassus
C. Duillius

L. Cornelius Scipio

C. Sulpicius Paterculus

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

257
256
suf.:
255
254

253
252
251
250
249
248
247
246
245
244
243
242

241

240
239
238
237

236

235
234
233

232
231
230
229
228

227
226
225
224
223

THE CONSULAR FASTI

Cn. Cornelius Blasio II

Q. Caedicius

M. Atilius Regulus II

M. Aemilius Paullus

Cn. Cornelius Scipio Asina I

Cn. Servilius Caepio

C. Aurelius Cotta

L. Caecilius Metellus

C. Atilius Regulus I]

P. Claudius Pulcher

P. Servilius Geminus II

L. Caecilius Metellus II

M. Fabius Licinus

M. Fabius Buteo

A. Manlius Torquatus Atticus

C. Fundanius Fundulus

C. Lutatius Catulus or
(Cassiodorus) Cerconius

Q. Lutatius Cerco or Catulus

C. Claudius Centho

C. Mamilius Turrinus

Ti. Sempronius Gracchus

L. Cornelius Lentulus
Caudinus

C. Licinius Varus

T. Manlius Torquatus

L. Postumius Albinus

Q. Fabius Maximus
Verrucosus

M. Aemilius Lepidus

C. Papirius Maso

M. Aemilius Barbula

L. Postumius Albinus II

Q. Fabius Maximus
Verrucosus II

P. Valerius Flaccus

L. Apustius Fullo

C. Atilius Regulus

T. Manlius Torquatus II

C. Flaminius

643

C. Atilius Regulus
L. Manlius Vulso Longus

Ser. Fulvius Paetinus Nobilior
A. Atilius Caiatinus or
Calatinus II

. Sempronius Blaesus

. Servilius Geminus

. Furius Pacilus

. Manlius Vulso (Longus) II
. Iunius Pullus

. Aurelius Cotta II

N. Fabius Buteo

M’. Otacilius Crassus II

C. Atilius Bulbus

C. Sempronius Blaesus II

C. Sulpicius Galus

A. Postumius Albinus

AOrFRADWN

A. Manlius Torquatus
Atticus II

M. Sempronius Tuditanus

Q. Valerius Falto

P. Valerius Falto

Q. Fulvius Flaccus

P. Cornelius Lentulus
Caudinus

C. Atilius Bulbus II

Sp. Carvilius Maximus Ruga

M’. Pomponius Matho

M. Publicius Malleolus

M. Pomponius Matho

M. Iunius Pera

Cn. Fulvius Centumalus

Sp. Carvilius Maximus
Ruga II

M. Atilius Regulus

M. Valerius Maximus Messalla

L. Aemilius Papus

Q. Fulvius Flaccus II

P. Furius Philus

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

644

222 M. Claudius Marcellus Cn. Cornelius Scipio Calvus
221 P. Cornelius Scipio M. Minucius Rufus

Asina
(?suf.: M. Aemilius Lepidus II)
220 M. Valerius Laevinus (Q. Mucius) Scaevola
suf.(?):L. Veturius Philo C. Lutatius Catulus

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE

Notes: (i) The dates here given for Roman republican history are based on the conventional
translation of the relevant Roman consular year into B.c. terms. This may, however, be misleading
since there was no fixed date for the start of the consular year until 222 B.c., when the Ides of March
seems to have become the norm (altered to 1 January in 153 B.C.). Asa result, for the period covered
by this Table the consular year may seldom (if ever) have coincided with the calendar year of modern
reckoning.

(ii) The Varronian chronological scheme employed here for those events of Roman history
(columns 1 and 2) which are recorded by literary sources is defective for the period before 300 B.c.
(p. 625). Such dates cannot, therefore, be synchronized with items in column 3, whose date usually
derives from Greek sources.

(iii) The Table for the most part reproduces the data of the literary tradition for non-archaeo-
logical items. In consequence, the authenticity and/or date of many such items are controversial.

645

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

ABBREVIATIONS

At? A Antike und Abendland

AAN Atti della Accademia di Scienze morali e politiche della Societa nazionale di
Scienze, Lettere ed Arti di Napoli

A Ant. Hung. Acta Antiqua Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae

AArch. Hung. Acta Archaeologica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae

AATC Atti e Memorie dell Accademia Toscana ‘La Columbaria’

AAWW Anzeiger der Osterreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien,
Phil.-hist. Klasse

AClass. Acta Classica

AE L’Anmnée Epigraphique

AUN Annali dell’ Istituto Italiano di Numismatica

AION (Archeol) Annali delP Istituto Universitario Orientale di Napoli.
Seminario di studi del mondo classico. Sezione di archeologia e storia
antica

AJA American Journal of Archaeology

AJAH American Journal of Ancient History

AJPhil. American Journal of Philology

ALL Archiv fir Lateinische Lexikographie und Grammatik

Ane. Soc. Ancient Society

Annales (ESC) Annales (Economie, Sociétés, Civilisations)

ANRW Aufstieg und Niedergang der rimischen Welt, ed. H. Temporini and W.
Haase. Berlin-New York, 1972-

ANSMN- American Numismatic Society, Museum Notes

Ant. Class. LL’ Antiquité Classique

Ant. Journ. Antiquaries Journal

Ae R Atenee Roma

Arch. Class. Archeologia Classica

Arch, Laz. Areheologia Laziale

ARID Analecta Romana Instituti Danici

ASGP Annali del Seminario Giuridico di Palermo

ASNP Anmali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, Classe di lettere e filosofia

AUB Annales Universitatis Budapestinensis de Rolando Eétvés nominatae

BAR British Archaeological Reports

BCAR _ Bullettino della Commissione Archeologica Comunale in Roma

673

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

674 BIBLIOGRAPHY

BICS Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies (London)

BIDR _ Bollettino delP Istituto di Diritto romano (Milan)

BPI Bullettino di Paletnologia Italiana

Bruns C.G. Bruns (ed.), Fontes Iuris Romani Antiqui. Ed. 7. Tubingen, 1909

CAH Cambridge Ancient History

CEDAC Centre d’études et de documentation archéologique de la conserva-
tion de Carthage, Bulletin

CIL Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum

CISA Contributi dell’Istituto di Storia Antica dell Universita del Sacro Cuore
Milano

Ce M_ Classica et Mediaevalia

CPhil. Classical Philology

CQ Classical Quarterly

CR Classical Review

CR Acad. Inser. Comptes Rendus de P Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres

CSCA California Studies in Classical Antiquity

CSSH Comparative Studies in Society and History

DArch. Dialoghi di Archeologia

De Martino, Diritto e societa nell’ antica Roma ¥F. De Martino, Diritto e societa
nell’antica Roma. Rome, 1979

EHR English Historical Review

Entretiens Hardt — Entretiens sur Vantiquité classique, Fondation Hardt.
Vandoeuvres-Geneva

Gli Etruschi e Roma Gli Etruschi e Roma (Incontro di studio in onore di Massimo
Pallottino). Rome, 1981

FIRA_ S.Riccobono etal., Fontes Iuris Romani Anteiustiniani. 3 vols. Florence,
1940-3

Fraccaro, Opuscula P. Fraccaro, Opuscula. 4 vols. Pavia, 1965—7 (I-III) and
1975 (IV)

Gelzer, K/, Schr. M. Gelzer, Kleine Schriften. 3 vols. Wiesbaden, 1962-4

GL_H. Keil (ed.), Grammatici Latini. 8 vols. 1855-1923

Ge R_ Greece and Rome

Guarino, Le origini quiritarie A. Guarino, Le origini quiritarie. Naples, 1973

Harv. Theol. Rev. Harvard Theological Review

Hommages J. Bayet Hommages a J. Bayet (Collection Latomus 70). Brussels, 1964

Hommages A. Grenier Hommages aA. Grenier (Collection Latomus 58). 3 vols.
Brussels, 1962

Hommages M. Renard Hommages a M. Renard (Collection Latomus 101-3). 3
vols. Brussels, 1969

HSCP Harvard Studies in Classical Philology

HZ Historische Zeitschrift

IG _ Inscriptiones Graecae

TH L’ Information Historique

I] The Irish Jurist

ILLRP A. Degrassi, Inscriptiones Latinae Liberae Rei Publicae. 2 vols. Ed. 2.
Florence, 1965

ILS H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae. 3 vols. Berlin, 1892-1916

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

BIBLIOGRAPHY 675

Inscr. Ital. Inscriptiones Italiae

JA Journal Asiatique

Jac. FGrH F. Jacoby, Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker. 3 parts, 11 vols.
Berlin—Leiden, 1923-58

JDAI Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archdologischen Instituts

JHS Journal of Hellenic Studies

JING Jahrbuch fir Numismatik und Geldgeschichte

JRS Journal of Roman Studies

Latte, Kleine Schriften K. Latte, Kleine Schriften zu Religion, Recht, Literatur und
Sprache der Griechen und Rémer. Munich, 1968

LCM Liverpool Classical Monthly

LEC Les Etudes Classiques

LOR Law Quarterly Review

MAAR Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome

MAL Memorie della Classe di Scienze morali e storiche dell? Accademia dei Lincet

MDAI(R) Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archdaologischen Instituts (Romische
Abteilung)

MEFR(A) Meélanges d’ Archéologie et d'Histoire de ’ Ecole Francaise de Rome
( Antiquité)

Meélanges J. Carcopino Mélanges d’archéologie, d’épigraphie et d'histoire offerts a J.
Carcopino. Paris, 1966

Meélanges J. Heurgon Italie préromaine et la Rome républicaine: Mélanges offerts a J.
Heurgon (Collection de Ecole Francaise de Rome 27). 2 vols. Rome, 1976

Mélanges A. Piganiol Mélanges d archéologie et d’ histoire offerts a A. Piganiol. 3 vols.
Paris, 1966

Mélanges P. Wuilleumier Mélanges de littérature et d’épigraphie latines, d histoire
ancienne et d’ archéologte. Hommage a la mémoire de P. Wuilleumier (Collection
d’études latines, Série scientifique 35). Paris, 1980

MH Museum Helveticum

MIL Memorie dell’ Istituto Lombardo, Accademia di Scienze e Lettere, Classe di
Lettere, Scienze morali e storiche

Miscellanea E. Manni dias xapw. Miscellanea di studi classici in onore di E. Manni.
6 vols. Rome, 1980

Momigliano, Secondo Contributo A. Momigliano, Secondo Contributo alla storia
degli studi classici. Rome, 1960

Momigliano, Terzo Contributo A. Momigliano, Terzo Contributo alla storia degli
Studi classici e del mondo antico. 2 vols. Rome, 1966

Momigliano, Quarto Contributo A. Momigliano, Quarto Contributo alla storia
degli studi classici e del mondo antico. Rome, 1969

Momigliano, Quinto Contributo A. Momigliano, Quinto Contributo alla storia
degli studi classici e del mondo antico. 2 vols. Rome, 1975

Momigliano, Sesto Contributo A. Momigliano, Sesto Contributo alla storia degli
Studi classici e del mondo antico. 2 vols. Rome, 1980

Momigliano, Settimo Contribute A. Momigliano, Settimo Contributo alla storia
degli studi classici e del mondo antico. Rome, 1984

MRR_T.R.S. Broughton and M. L. Patterson, The Magistrates of the Roman
Republic. 3 vols. New York, 1931~2 (I-III); Atlanta, 1986 (III)

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

676 BIBLIOGRAPHY

Minch. Beitr. Papyr. Miénchener Beitrdge zur Papyrusforschung und antiken
Rechtsgeschichte

NAC Numismatica e Antibita Classiche

NRS Nuova Rivista Storica

NSc. Notizie degli Scavi di Antichita

Num. Chron. Numismatic Chronicle

Op. Rom. Opuscula Romana

PBSR_ = Papers of the British School at Rome

PCPAS Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society

PP Parola del Passato

PPS Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society (London)

RAL _ Rendiconti della Classe di Scienze morali, storiche e filologiche dell Accademia
dei Lincet

RBPhil. Revue Belge de Philologie et d Histoire

RE Paulys Real-Encyclopddie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft

REL Reowe des Etudes Latines

Rev. Arch. Revue Archéologique

Rev. Et. Anc. Revue des Etudes Anciennes

Rev. Hist. Rel. Revue de [Histoire des Religions

Rev. Phil. Revue de Philologie

RHD_ Revue d'Histoire du Droit. Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiedenis

RHDFE Revue Historique de Droit Francais et Etranger

Rh. Mus. Rheinisches Museum

RIDA Revue Internationale des Droits de 2 Antiquité

RIL Rendiconti dell Istituto Lombardo, Classe di Lettere, Scienze morali e
storiche

Riv. Fil. Rivista di Filologia e di Istruzione Classica

RPAA _ Rendiconti della Pontificia Accademia di Archeologia

RRC M.H. Crawford, Roman Republican Coinage. 2 vols. Cambridge, 1974

RSA = Rivista Storica del? Antichita

RSI Rivista Storica Italiana

RSL Rivista di Studi Liguri

RSO Rivista degli Studi Orientali

RStud. Fen. Ruavista di Studi Fenici

Ser C Scrittura e Civilta

SCO Studi Classici e Orientali

SDHI Studia et Documenta Historiae et luris

SGDI _ H. Collitz and F. Bechtel, Sammlung der griechischen Dialekt-Inschriften.
GOttingen, 1884-1915

SHAW Sitzungsberichte der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften, Phil.—hist.
Klasse

SIG W. Dittenberger, Sy/loge Inscriptionum Graecarum. 4 vols. Ed. 3. Leipzig,
191§—24

SMSR Studie Materiali di Storia delle Religioni

SNR Schweizerische Numismatische Rundschau

SO Symbolae Osloenses

Stud. Clas. Studii Clasice

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

BIBLIOGRAPHY 677

Stud. Etr. Studi Etruschi

Stud. Rom. Studi Romani

Stud. Stor. Studi Storici

Studi V.Arangio-Ruiz Studi in onore di V. Arangio-Ruiz. 4 vols. Naples, 1953

TAPA Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association

TLE M. Pallottino, Testimonia Linguae Etruscae

Walbank, Selected Papers F.W. Walbank, Selected Papers. Studies in Greek and
Roman History and Historiography. Cambridge, 1985

WS Wiener Studien

ZSS Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung fiir Rechtsgeschichte (Romanistische
Abteilung)

Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008

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Brant, P. A. Italian Manpower 223 B.C.—A.D. 14. Oxford, 1971

Capogrossi Colognesi, L. Storia delle istituzioni romane arcaiche. Rome, 1978

Carcopino, J. Virgile et les origines d Ostie. Paris, 1919

Catalano, P. Popslus Romanus Quirites. Turin, 1974

Ciaceri, E. Le origini di Roma. Milan, 1937

Cichorius, C. Rémische Studien. Berlin—Leipzig, 1922

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F. THE MONARCHY, THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE
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See also A33, 38-9, 51, 86-9, 95, 98; B62-3, 86, 125, 225, 230-1, 247; E117;
Gitz, 611, 638; 2-3, 14, 44.

13.

14.

15.
16,

17.

18,

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24.
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d. POLITICAL AND MILITARY INSTITUTIONS

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7; 73-4, 77, 80, 91, 102, 114-15, 124, 127, 129, 270; B11$, 270, 332; G2zg2z; Hi—4,
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